


if my heart was a house

by keithkin (ghozting)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Slice of Life, keith's a writer with undiagnosed bpd, lance is his artist roommate and witness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghozting/pseuds/keithkin
Summary: Keith sighs as he leans against the window frame. The cup of coffee Lance made him has grown cold, and though he hates the bitter taste, he finds himself taking another sip anyway. It feels strangely right to do so, watching the storm. The two just go together in a way Keith can’t explain.“You like the rain?”He glances over his shoulder and looks at Lance. Keith hums before turning back to the view. The streets are empty, with only a few pedestrians strolling the sidewalks holding either an umbrella or their coats tugged over their heads. The light hitting the wet asphalt makes the roads glitter, but the storm clouds are heavy, even in this room.“It’s nice to see. There’s a lot more up here than there was in the desert.”“Deserts tend to be dry.”“Don’t I know it.”Keith is a flame that refuses to diminish until everything around him is scorched. Luckily for him, Lance was never really afraid of getting burned.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 98





	if my heart was a house

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say a few things before going into this:
> 
> this fic is rated m because of the adult themes and strong language. there's no smut here, don't worry.
> 
> i have bpd, so i know what i'm talking about here. when you're struggling with mental health, you're going to make some unhealthy decisions. that doesn't make you a bad person as long as you own up to it, apologize, and actively work on getting better. this fic explores the struggles keith goes through in a year while having an undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. 
> 
> potential triggers in this work:
> 
> \- allusions to childhood abuse  
> \- allusions to dissociation  
> \- mentions of suicide ideation  
> \- consumption of alcohol  
> \- described anxiety attacks  
> \- described "black hole phenomenon"
> 
> the title is from the song "if my heart was a house" by owl city.

>>>

As Keith stares at his computer screen, the ever-growing rot in the depths of his stomach threatens to consume him entirely. He never thought of himself as somebody – Keith hardly thinks he’s a person, if he is honest – so it’s always helpful when Shiro would refer to him as a writer. That’s all Keith does these days.

Or at least that’s what he tells people. How does someone say they sit in front of a computer screen for seven hours a day, staring at a blank document until their eyes burn, with a straight face? How can someone say that without feeling like a failure? Being a writer is one thing. Being a writer who’s too far away from existing to grasp at words – literally _any_ fucking word – is another.

Smart people tell him to take a break, but Keith has always been an idiot. It’s a trait he’s never really seemed to outgrow.

“The next time I come in here, you better be on Pornhub or something.”

Keith jumps at the sudden break in his reflective silence. It only takes a second for his roommate’s words to settle over him and for his face to burn hotter than the bottom of his laptop. Lance stands in his doorway with a bowl of popcorn resting against his hip, eyes half-lidded and bored. A thousand thoughts rush Keith at once, and he’s unable to settle on a singular, coherent sentence before Lance tosses a handful of popcorn into the air to catch into his mouth. He fails at this miserably and kicks the remains from the hallway floor into Keith’s bedroom, as though he’s making an offering instead of being an asshole.

“I hate you,” Keith finally grits out after he lifts his gaze from the “totally ironic” weed socks on Lance’s feet to meet his dull eyes once again. “I actually think I hate you.”

“When was the last time you showered? You look disgusting.”

“God has blessed me with such a caring roommate,” Keith grumbles as he turns his attention back to his screen. The brightness of the Microsoft document kills what’s left of his soul only a little bit. “Is there a reason for you barging in here? I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re writing,” interrupts Lance. “You’ve been staring at your laptop since you first moved in six months ago. I’m starting to believe you don’t truly know what words are.”

Keith quirks a smile at that, despite himself. He won’t let himself laugh, though – if he laughs at one of Lance’s jokes, he’ll never hear the end of it. The last thing the guy needs to know is that he's funny. His head is big enough as it is – but, then again, maybe it’s those ears of his that makes Keith think that. Either way, Keith’s too stubborn to show fondness toward his roommate. They aren't friends.

“You’re annoying,” he replies a second too late.

Lance is already rolling his eyes at him, lips twisted into a halfway there smile that irks Keith to his core. It’s insane how much Lance can piss him off and make him feel so... so _energized_. Maybe it’s the irritation, but there’s a rush of adrenaline going off in his chest, and it’s the most exciting thing he feels these days.

“I can teach you how to read, man,” Lance says as he tosses another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “We can order some flash-cards and make it a thing.”

“You are in no way qualified to teach anyone how to do anything.” Keith swivels his chair around to face Lance head-on. “And I know how to read fine. It’s just – writing takes time, okay?”

“Breathe if you need help,” Lance says very seriously. “Don’t drop your crown, king.”

Keith sighs, but only to conceal the light chuckles slipping past his lips. “Goodbye, Lance.”

Lance throws up a peace sign, and his bowl of popcorn tumbles to the ground.

  
  


>>>

  
  


He’s tired of writing. So tired of it, Keith finds himself wondering if he’s ever truly enjoyed it. Maybe he chose to be a writer because it was one of the few things he could pick up quickly. Back in elementary school, the kids thought the next J.K. Rowling was in their midst – and sure, that sounds cool, but did he ever really want that? Or was he just good enough at it that it seemed like the safest bet?

Keith leans his head against the window frame, breathing out a sigh that’s been stuck inside him all day. His throat tastes bitter, and he isn’t sure if it’s the bile inching its way up to his throat or the burning cigarette tucked between his fingers. Regardless, it sucks, but it isn’t enough for him to take a swig out of his water bottle nor ash the cigarette. Instead, he takes another drag, all but relishing in the rough tobacco making its way down his windpipe. Keith sighs another sigh.

The music from the apartment flutters through his closed door, softer now that it’s reaching later in the night. The wall rumbles against his back with the bass, and it sends shivers running down his spine. Weirdly, he can feel the music in his chest and yet still feel so disconnected from the party in his and Lance’s living room.

Then again, shouldn’t he be used to that disconnection? Maybe it’s not the party he’s feeling far away from.

A knock comes from his door, and as he blinks back into awareness, the door is already opening, sending lines of warm light into his otherwise dark bedroom. Though shadows mask the person’s face coming in, Keith would recognize the silhouette of Lance’s messy, just-out-of-bed hair anywhere. Quickly, Keith ashes his cigarette despite knowing he’s been caught.

“Thought I smelled something burning,” Lance says as he takes a step inside Keith’s bedroom. He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, as if he’s trying not to wake anyone up – though Keith doesn’t know why. The laughter ringing out from the other room is loud enough to keep anyone awake.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Keith mumbles back as he tucks the bud into his front pocket. He crosses his arms as Lance takes another step forward, his own hands stuffed in his pockets, and he runs his eyes across the room. Keith squints. “Everything okay?”

Lance jerks his head back to Keith. He yanks one of his hands out of his front pockets and rubs the back of his neck as if he was exposed. The action is more sheepish than Keith is used to seeing, but he pushes away the curiosity bubbling in his chest, opting to ignore it.

“Me? Yeah. I’m cool. Peachy.” Lance drops his arm to his side and lets it hang. “Uh. I just noticed you slipped away for a while, and like… Pidge was asking what was going on. Are we keeping you up?”

“Not at all,” replies Keith. “I was just...”

“Yeah.” Lance kicks the floor. “Uh. I thought you quit.”

There’s a beat of silence as Keith watches Lance. He then looks down to the ashtray on the windowsill and scrunches his face. Keith did quit smoking a few weeks back. Lance was pleased about that, despite the fact he hit puff-bars on occasion too.

“I did.”

Lance clears his throat. “Oh. Okay. Anyway. Uh, if you’re not doing anything, we’re thinking about playing Jackbox. Do you want to play with us?”

Keith presses his lips together, considering. “Can we play the one with Murder Mystery Party?”

There was a second where Lance looked surprised before his face molds into something annoyingly pleased. He nods his head with more enthusiasm party games deserved and then says with an equal amount of excitement, “Yeah! Totally! Just let me grab my laptop!”

“Okay,” Keith says back, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll meet you out there.”

Lance all but sprints out of his room, and as soon as the door shuts behind him, Keith can hear him yell out, “We’re playing Jackbox! Avengers, assemble!”

The party cheers.

Keith rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

  
  


>>>

  
  


Keith wakes up to the front door slamming shut. It has him jerking awake, panic splattering through his chest like he got shot with a paintball. His eyes dart across his room, first at the framed Star Wars movie poster on his wall and then to his laptop on top of his messy desk. The screensaver shows a picture of him, Shiro, and Adam in the snow behind his digital calendar. Keith takes a deep breath and throws his legs off the bed, shaking away the panic.

“Lance?” He calls out as he steps into the hallway. The apartment is void of light, but as he steps into the living room, he breathes out a sigh of relief as he sees Lance flopped on the couch.

Lance doesn’t say anything to him as Keith makes his way over to him. He’s staring up at the ceiling with a frown on his face, squeezing a grip trainer in his hand. Keith watches him with a frown pulled on his own face. There’s something heavy in the air, and Keith’s stomach twists uncomfortably inside him.

“Uh. Buddy?” Keith moves closer, hesitance in his steps. Lance lets out a groan and flops on his side, a picture of exaggerated agony. Keith pauses. “Dude?”

“They want to break up.”

He doesn’t take another step. Instead, he says, “Who?”

Lance shoots him a look of disbelief. “Plaxum, Keith! My partner!”

Oh, right. He knew that. Keith tries to hide his cringe, but when Lance rolls his eyes again, a feeling of shame washes over him. He’s never been great at hiding his expressions when he’s surprised like this.

“I thought you guys were talking about things still?” Keith offers weakly.

“I did, too!” Lance cries. “I thought things were going good, and then – bam! They told me today that they think things would be better if we just, you know, gave up!”

“Uh. Geez.” Keith crosses his arms and looks down at the floor. He’s never been great talking to people in general, but talking about real, important things? That’s uncharted territory for Keith. “That’s... that sucks.”

Lance groans again.

“I mean, uh...” Keith prods his brain for something supportive to say. He’s never dated anyone, and he hasn’t gone through a breakup, so he has no idea what to say. Does he just leave Lance to sulk? That can’t be the right thing to do, especially when he looks so... defeated. “Do you want to... uh. Talk about it?”

There’s a moment of silence that has Keith worrying he’s said the wrong thing. He and Lance aren’t close, and they’re only... _friends_ because they live together – did he step out of line, asking Lance to be vulnerable and whatever?

“I really liked them,” Lance mumbles into the couch cushions. “I thought they felt the same way.”

Keith winces. “Yeah. Uh. Right.” Looking around the room as if an answer will just spawn out of thin air, he shuts his eyes and resigns himself to working through this himself. Tentatively, Keith walks to the opposite end of the couch and sits down. He leans forward onto his knees, hoping to just stare at the floor as Lance talks.

But Lance doesn’t say anything else.

Keith clenches his jaw and sighs out his nose. “How long were you guys...together?” He works out.

“Four months.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not that long, is it?”

“Guess not.”

“Yeah, so, can’t you just...get over it?”

Lance looks up at him, scowling.

“Sorry.” Keith rubs his face, hoping to hide the blush staining his cheeks. “That sounded a lot better in my head. I just mean... there’s more fish in the pond. Ocean. Sea?”

“You’re really bad at this.”

“That obvious?”

Lance then sits up, tucking his feet underneath him. He wraps his arms around himself in a faux-hug and rests his head on the back cushion. Unfortunately, he stares at Keith like a lost puppy, and Keith remembers he’s a dog person. But more than that, Lance looks like he needs comfort, and...

Well. It’d be rude if Keith just went back to his room and locked the door behind him.

“Listen, Lance...” Keith makes a face as he leans back into the couch. “Was there a specific reason you two broke up?”

“I don’t know.” Lance looks away. “I didn’t...want to ask.”

Huh. If Keith ever got dumped, he thinks he’d want to know why. He’d like to know if there was a way to fix things. Then again, Plaxum and Lance have been awkward for a while – they didn’t even come to the party Lance had last weekend. Something bitter unfurls in Keith’s gut. He finds himself glaring at nothing in particular as he shuffles in his seat.

“Well... why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know!” Lance throws his hands up in the air, and Keith flinches. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just... I don’t want to hear what went wrong. It seemed like they already made up their mind, and I didn’t want to be the guy who begged them to stay.”

“That makes sense.” Keith looks at Lance. “So... If you didn’t want to fight for it either, then... why does it matter?”

Lance opens his mouth, looking ready to argue, but then deflates. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, gesturing for Lance to continue.

“It’s just – when you date someone, that means they’re special! And you like them! And want to spend time with them, and experience things together! You pick that person out of a bunch of people to spend your life with, and when they decide they don’t want to do that...” Lance makes a face, something mixed between disappointed and contemplative. “It makes you feel like a loser.”

“...I don’t think you’re a loser for getting dumped, Lance.”

Lance huffs out a laugh. “Thanks. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a loser for having lost them.”

Keith nods. “I guess I can understand that.” He pauses and then asks, “Did being with them... make you feel like a winner?”

The room falls quiet. Lance isn’t looking at him, but Keith doesn’t look away. For some reason, sad is a good look on Lance. He feels weird thinking that and pushes the thought out of the forefront of his mind, but the versatility of Lance’s expressions dance in the back of his head, like a song stuck on repeat.

“I wasn’t in love with them,” Lance admits. His words hang in the air like a flag, and it looks like Lance just realizes the depths – or lack thereof – of his feelings for Plaxum. “I guess the rejection just stings.”

Keith swallows, throat suddenly dry. Now that’s something he knows.

“...Did you know I went through five foster families before Shiro and Adam adopted me?”

Lance’s eyes widen, and he turns his attention to Keith like he’s a kid waiting for a bedtime story. There’s a good reason why Keith doesn’t mention his childhood often; that was one of the first real conversations Keith had with Lance when they first became roommates. They had talked about how their childhoods were very inconsistent, thus making them very different. Lance was more than understanding and never pressed, but when Keith would drop random comments about where he’s been, Lance... he always listened entirely.

“That many?”

Keith shrugs, looking away from Lance’s gaze. He squeezes his hands into fists and glides his thumb across his knuckles, embarrassed at the attention but relishing in it all the same.

“Yeah. I was a... problem child. Nobody wanted a little asshole with a criminal record around.”

“I hardly think beating up that bully in middle school counts as a criminal record.”

“They tried to press charges. I was lucky my lawyer was as good as she was.” Keith shakes his head. “That’s beside the point. I was shuffled from each house in the span of... three or four years. No matter how much I liked my foster parents, they wanted something low maintenance.”

“That’s so shitty,” whispers Lance. “I’m sorry.”

Keith waves him off. “I don’t blame them. I made their life a living hell whenever I could. But when I was shipped off to Shiro and Adam, they... I mean, despite everything I was and everything I did, they didn’t care. They wanted me anyway, mess and all.” Keith looks back to Lance and offers a weak smile. “Each rejection was just one step closer to finding the people who loved me... unconditionally.”

“Wow.” Lance sniffles. “That’s beautiful. Have you thought about being a writer?”

Keith’s expression drops, and he rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

“I’m serious! You could write a book with that prose!”

“I hate you.” Keith grabs an orange throw pillow and smacks Lance with it. “I’m never comforting you again. Suffer alone.”

“Ow! Wait! I’m sorry,” Lance says through his laughter. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to the floor. “I’m sorry, no fighting. I’m just... that was cool of you. This. Talking. Thanks.”

Keith blinks and looks away. “Yeah... no problem.”

The room falls quiet again – so still that Keith can hear the clock on the wall ticking the second away. He swallows again and cracks his knuckles, chest fluttering despite the mood of the room.

Lance hops off the couch. “Can I help you cook dinner tonight?”

“If you won’t be a backseat chef, then knock yourself out.” Keith stands up. “Spaghetti?”

“I’ll make the garlic knots!”

  
  


>>>

  
  


Lance has been whining all day, and it’s starting to get on Keith’s nerves.

Now that’s not to say Lance doesn’t have good reason to be a pain in the ass. After complaining about pain for weeks, Keith finally told Lance to go to the doctor in hopes for him to shut up. Still, he didn’t expect Hunk to bring Lance back to their place with his own annoyed look stretched across his face.

Apparently, drawing for 12 hours straight every few days is very, very bad for your wrists. Keith had his fair share of carpal tunnel, but the writer’s block he’s been in has saved him from such hell Lance is going through. And he’s never been forced to wear wrist braces for a week straight, either.

“Y’know, I don’t know what you expected,” Hunk yells back to Lance. He glances over at Keith with a ‘what can you do?’ look as he shuts the fridge with his hip. “I mean, really Lance, you know you’re not on a deadline, right? There’s no reason to shove yourself into work like that.”

“I just wanted the concept art ready for Pidge so she can start the 3D models!”

Keith takes a sip of his apple juice to hide his smile.

Hunk shoots Keith a dirty look that has him curling in on himself. “You should’ve made him take a break.”

“When did I become his keeper?”

“You’re supposed to tell him that after you bash my head in with a rock,” Lance calls back.

Fighting off the laugh rising up his throat, Keith takes another sip of his juice before setting his glass on the counter. Hunk gestures to the living room with a nod before moving toward the couch where Lance sits with a pile of blankets.

Once he composes himself, Keith follows, sending a look to Lance as he settles into the squeaky recliner Lance had found at a garage sale a few months back. Hunk hands Lance a plate of peeled oranges before he drops on the couch next to him. They sit in silence as Lance eats.

“You don’t have to baby him,” Keith finally says as he leans back in his chair. “I’m pretty sure Lance can make his own food, even with the braces.”

“Shut up, let Papa take care of me.”

Keith and Hunk groan at the nickname as Lance snickers.

“Lance begged me to come by,” Hunk says as he tugs some of the blankets away from Lance. “Since he can’t draw until his wrists are feeling better, he wanted to talk about the game and show off what he did. He said, and I quote, ‘I need validation or else I will die an agonizing death, Hunk.’”

“Sounds like him.”

“It’s true!” Lance puts the empty plate on the coffee table before reaching for his iPad. “I think you’re really going to like these designs. I have character and weapon concepts, but some of the scenery isn’t done yet. Maybe I can figure out how to draw with –”

“Nope.” Keith plucks the Apple Pen from the table before Lance can even think about reaching for it. “You pushed yourself already. Hunk just said you didn’t have a deadline for the concept art, dude. You can take a week.”

Lance rolls his eyes and opens his drawing app. He hides the screen from everyone, holding it close to his chest as he fumbles with his hands. After a few seconds of scrolling, his eyes light up, and he hands the iPad to Hunk.

“Here, these are the Paladins... just a set of five, all color-coded. And I added some customization options so the players get a more personal feel. Oh, and this is the –”

“Holy cheese, Lance...” Hunk stares down at the tablet, eyes starry. “These are amazing. Look at this character turn around! And the Bayards! It’s just like I pictured them in my head!”

Keith shuffles in his seat, watching Hunk marvel over Lance’s art with an involuntary smile. Lance’s cheeks are flushes, and he rubs the back of his neck as if he’s surprised by the compliments. Lance will often interrupt Hunk, saying things like, “It’s still a WIP, it’s nothing special,” before Hunk shushes him.

After a few minutes, Hunk looks up from the iPad and meets Keith’s eyes.

“Have you seen these?”

The room stills.

“Uhh...” Keith glances at Lance before looking down at his hands sprawled on his lap.

Lance forces a laugh. “No, he...” He shakes his head. “I haven’t shown Keith any...”

“What!” Hunk looks between the two of them. “I mean, Keith, you’ve seen his art. It’s like that, but a thousand times more –”

“Lance has actually never shown me any of his drawings.”

Hunk pauses. “Wait, what?” He looks at Lance. “Seriously?”

Lance shrugs. “He’s never asked.”

Hunk looks back at Keith. “Can - Do you want to see?”

Lance shrinks in on himself as Keith blinks. “Oh. Uh. I mean, sure. If Lance is okay with that.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Hunk hands Keith the tablet with no hesitation.

Looking down, Keith isn’t sure what he expected. He knew Lance was an artist and that he got paid enough in commissions to pay for half the rent in this apartment with only a part-time job, but he didn’t imagine Lance’s art looked so...

“Wow,” Keith breathes out. “Lance, I mean, this is...”

“They’re just concepts. The designs are bound to change –”

“Shut up,” Keith mumbles as he swipes to the next picture. “This is amazing! You’re so talented!”

Lance laughs nervously. “You said it, not me.”

Keith keeps swiping. He wasn’t much of an artist himself; all he did was sketches of people or landscapes he saw on the bus when his phone wouldn’t connect to Word, but compared to Lance’s artwork, his own stuff seemed like child's play. Through his amazement, though, Keith isn’t surprised Lance is so good at what he does – he doesn’t mess around when it comes to working. The amount of skill and effort these pieces must have taken blows his mind.

“I love this...” Keith says, mostly to himself. “I mean, look at the armor! And the expressions and lighting. You convey the mood so well with your colors, what the hell...”

“Geez, what is this, a fan club? Hand me my tablet –”

Keith holds the tablet away from Lance. “I’m still looking!”

“You can keep looking when you let me read your work.”

He’s never moved so fast. Keith practically tosses the tablet at Lance, almost as if the thing burned him. Snickering, Lance puts the iPad to sleep and sets it down in his lap, sticking out his tongue at Keith like he’s just beat him at a game. Keith flips him off and shrinks in his seat, pouting like a child. He stops himself from complaining about the unfairness of the situation.

“Okay, while you two bicker, can I start the movie?”

“Ugh, a movie?” Lance groans. “I can’t watch a movie! How about Schitt’s Creek? Scrubs?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You can binge a TV show, but you can’t watch a movie?”

“Exactly.”

“If neither of you shut up, I’ll put on Big Hero 6.” Hunk opens Disney+ with a threatening click of a button. “And we’ll all cry.”

Keith frowns. “I’ve never seen it, so I don’t care.”

“Those are fightin’ words, Kogane.”

“Big Hero 6 it is, then.” Hunk clicks open the movie. “Hope you have Shiro’s number on speed dial.”

  
  


>>>

  
  


“ _Keith?_ ” His name crackles over the line. “ _What’s going on? Are – Keith, are you crying?_ ”

Lance and Hunk laugh through their snotty sniffles. Keith can’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, and over the phone, he can hear Shiro telling Adam something was wrong.

“ _I’m putting my shoes on. Where are you?_ ”

“Lance, Hunk, and I watched Big Hero 6,” he replies miserably. His voice cracks halfway through his sentence, sending Hunk and Lance into hysterical giggles.

Shiro’s quiet for a second before he says with a tight voice, “ _Keith, you can’t even talk about that movie with me. I’ll start crying, and Adam is going to make fun of me –_ ”

“... _Is he talking about Big Hero 6?_ ”

Keith hangs up and cackles along with Hunk and Lance.

  
  


>>>

  
  


Tiptoeing to the kitchen at three in the morning probably wasn’t the best idea, considering Lance crashed on the couch that night. Nevertheless, in Keith’s defense, the night looked like it would be another one where he laid in bed for hours on end, unable to sleep, so is he really at fault for wanting a snack to help pass the time?

That’s what he told himself as he worked up the courage to leave his bedroom, at least.

Still, he’s been living in the apartment for over half a year, and he’s walked to the kitchen in search of food a hundred times. He’d bet anything that he knows the way around in the dark, and even if he didn’t, it’s not like he was going to be doing anything crazy. He was just raiding Lance’s Hot Cheeto stash he never seemed to get around to before Keith did.

As Keith pulls the pantry door open, the hinges squeak something long and loud. Wincing, Keith forces the door the rest of the way open, hoping getting it over with wouldn’t startle Lance’s sleep. He freezes for a few seconds once he’s faced with their food, eyes flicking across the ramen, chips, and cereal as he keeps an ear out for any signs of disturbance.

Thankfully, Lance is still snoring, so Keith turns his attention back to the snacks at hand.

After scanning the shelves of their pantry, his eyes catch sight of a bag adorned in red, yellow, and orange. Keith bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a victorious, “Aha!” but the sentiment is still there as he grabs the bag of unopened Cheetos.

Once he shuts the pantry, Keith slowly leaves the dark kitchen, making sure there’s nothing directly in front of him. He narrowly misses the corner of a cupboard, but once he’s in the clear, he smoothens out his premature expression of agony and snickers at himself. Though he feels a little ridiculous, Lance is sleeping soundly in the next room – the only one who witnessed his crime was himself and God.

As he steps into the edge of the living room, Keith’s eyes begin to adjust to the dark much faster than before. Now, instead of going by memory, he can make out the shapes of furniture, and the tiny bit of light shining through the blinds act as a weak flashlight.

On the couch against the side of Keith’s bedroom wall, Lance is sprawled out on the sofa, hands thrown above his head like he’s on a roller coaster. His leg hangs off the cushion, and his foot dips into the pile of blankets he must have kicked off himself in his sleep. Despite doing so, Lance trembles between his open-mouthed snores.

Keith looks at his bedroom door a few steps away, shrouded by the darkness of the hall, and then back to Lance’s chaotic sleeping form. He nearly jumps out of his skin as Lance chokes on a snore, and his mouth falls open in disgust as Lance hacks in his sleep before flipping onto his side. Dragging his arms and legs close to his chest, he wraps himself and offers one last pathetic shiver.

Rolling his eyes, Keith quietly moves toward Lance.

“You’re such an idiot,” he mutters to himself as he sets the bag of Cheetos down on their coffee table.

Looking at the floor, Keith grabs the heaviest blanket he can find – a quilt Shiro and Adam gave him when he was first adopted – and carefully drapes it over Lance’s sleeping form. Chuckling at himself and the absurdity of this, he then tucks Lance in and smooths the blanket over his arm. Hoping the friction will generate enough heat to start getting Lance comfortable, Keith takes a step back.

As soon as Keith peels his hand off the quilt, Lance peeks his eyes open, and Keith freezes with his hands still hovering over him.

Slowly blinking at Keith, it looks like Lance is trying his best to make out what ghastly figure is standing over him in the dark, with the way he squints and rubs at his eyes. Keith considers bolting back to his bedroom as his gut clenches, but he stays still, hoping Lance will decide he’s dreaming and go back to sleep.

He doesn’t. Instead, Lance tilts his head to the side, inspecting closer.

“Mullet? That you?” he asks, voice groggy.

Lance tilts his head, and it’s the perfect angle for the moon to send a sliver of silver light across the contours of his face. Though his skin is usually a tawny brown, in the dark, it now has a rich tint of cobalt that glows underneath the pale light shining through the windows. The splatter of freckles brushed across the ridges of Lance’s cheeks look like black stars shining in the midnight sky.

The air leaves Keith’s lungs with a shaky gasp.

If Keith thought Lance looked next to ethereal before (and he doesn’t say this lightly), he was a fool. When Keith meets Lance’s eyes, something new sprouts inside his chest, taking up all the space he had left. His insides shift in hopes to make room, and it leaves Keith dizzy.

Unable to help himself, Keith scrunches his brows together and leans closer to Lance. He’s never seen eyes so vibrant and electric – they shimmer as if they’re an icy pool swirling around Lance’s dilated pupils. Keith always thought the idea of swimming in someone’s eyes was tacky, but now that he’s staring into Lance’s…

 _I think I get it,_ he distantly thinks, glowering. _Unreal._

Keith's never seen this shade of blue in his life; he knows that for a fact, because if he had… he would’ve remembered it. There’s no way he wouldn’t. It’s objectively beautiful.

Keith gulps. “It’s me,” he whispers back. “Have you always had blue eyes?”

“Have you always been a stupid face?”

The illusion shatters. For a second, Keith had honestly forgotten this was Lance sitting before him, and not some hero in a best-seller. Scoffing, Keith recoils, shooting offended glares down at Lance.

“I just covered you up,” he whisper-shouts. “Don’t be a jerk!”

Lance snickers as he pulls the blankets up to his face, hiding his eyes and the rest of his weirdly totally-only-divine-in-the-moonlight face. “Shut uppp,” he mumbles, instead of thanking Keith like any decent person would. He looks cozy. “Go sleep. The sun isn’t even up yet, loser.”

“I’m never doing anything for you again.”

“You’re only grumpy because you’re sleepy, too.” Lance sniffles and yawns. “Hot Cheetos are a bedtime snack.”

Sputtering, Keith snatches the stolen bag of Hot Cheetos and storms back to his room without so much of a goodbye.

...He can’t say Lance is wrong, though. As he crawls back into his mess of a bed, Keith’s a lot more tired than he was before. He blames it on Lance for being exhausting to deal with and doesn’t give it another thought. Tossing the unopened bag of chips on his bedside table, Keith melts into his pillows and shuts his eyes. This time, his louder thoughts slip away instead of sticking around too long.

Strangely enough, the striking color of Lance’s eyes from moments before doesn't go away as easily.

  
  


>>>

  
  


Plates and cutlery clatter together across the diner, and the people a few seats behind Keith giggle over a smoothie. The kitchen smells delicious from where he’s sitting, but he’s too busy nursing a Dr. Pepper to care. Across from him sits Shiro and Adam, chatting amongst themselves about nothing important, and Keith can see Lance taking people’s orders from where he’s sitting.

He doesn’t really come by Lance’s workplace often, but it was the closest place that had food Keith didn’t have to prepare.

“So...” Keith twirls the straw around his glass, fighting against the melting ice cubes. “As nice it is to see you guys, uh. You don’t usually offer to take me to lunch.”

“Can we not treat you to a meal every once in a while?” Adam asks. “I mean, we can still just as easily stick you with the bill if you want.”

Keith snorts, but he doesn’t say anything. Under the table, he’s swiping his thumb across his knuckle.

“There _is_ something we wanted to tell you, though,” Shiro admits. He shuffles his legs, nudging Keith’s to grab his attention.

Sitting up straight, Keith glances between Adam and Shiro. He keeps his face neutral, but dozens of thoughts make their way to the forefront of his mind. A part of him worries he’s in trouble, but once he remembers he’s twenty-two and not living under their roof, the worry gets worse. He considers the idea that they’re getting a divorce for one second before Keith catches a glimpse of Adam’s wedding ring. When that happens, all expectations go out the window, leaving Keith more than confused.

“Okay?”

Shiro takes in a deep breath. “I just wanted to start by saying I love you, and this is in no way your fault –”

“Takashi, he’s going to think we’re breaking up,” sighs Adam.

“We’re not breaking up,” Shiro confirms, almost panicked. “That’s not it. Uh. It’s just that... you know, we’re so proud of you for branching out and making friends. And, uh, we aren’t abandoning you –”

“We’re getting relocated, kid.” Adam pushes his glasses up his nose.

Keith’s mouth falls open before he’s able to stop himself. They’re leaving him?

A plate breaks across the room, stealing his attention away from the situation before him. Lance quickly picks up the large shards, but he glances up, meets Keith’s gaze, and holds it. It takes seconds until Keith gets the nerve to rip his eyes away. He looks down at the table, staring at the advertisements underneath the plexiglass, heartbeat growing dangerously fast.

“Where are you going?”

“...Arizona.”

Keith breathes out a disbelieving chuckle. “Arizona,” he repeats. “That’s… that’s pretty far, Shiro.”

Shiro’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I know. When we found out, we were just as surprised. It was just so much harder to tell you, knowing you have started to build your life here, but...”

Adam grasps Shiro’s hand and squeezes it. He looks at Keith with a small smile. “We know you’re an adult, Keith, but it’s important to us that we extend an invitation.”

“What?” Keith’s head shoots up. “You’re asking me to move with you?”

“You don’t have to,” Shiro promises. “Not at all. I don’t expect you to want to, either, but... if you did? We would love for you to come with us.”

Keith leans back in his seat and bites his lip. “This is a lot to spring on me,” he mumbles. “When do you guys leave?”

“Ten weeks.”

“Fuck.” Keith squeezes his eyes shut. He rests his head in his hands. “That’s so soon. How am I supposed to –”

“Hey, guys,” Lance interrupts, setting their meals down on the table. “How’s... How’s everything treating you today?”

Keith glances up at him through his lashes. Lance wrings his hands together with a nervous smile stretched across his face. When he meets Keith’s eyes, his brows twitch, but his expression smoothens just as fast as it had cracked.

“We’re doing well, Lance. Thanks,” Shiro says with an ease Keith wishes he could’ve somehow inherited. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know.” Lance shrugs. “Working. Can I get you guys anything else? Keith?”

Keith shakes his head. His voice sounds like it’s in another room when he says, “We’re fine, thanks.”

Lance nods and peels himself away from the table, but not without looking back with a concerned frown. Keith watches him leave before another sigh tumbles out of his mouth. He shakes off the anxiety prickling inside him and faces his attention back to Shiro and Adam.

Nobody at the table says anything for a few moments.

Keith clears his throat, hoping to cut through the awkwardness as he says, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Adam pats his hand. “Take your time, bud. We’ll always be here.”

Keith nods his head, but he can’t help but think, _no, you won’t._

  
  


>>>

  
  


Thunder shakes the whole apartment complex, only eased by the roar of falling rain hitting the windows. The power went out roughly half an hour ago, and the sun has begun to coax itself down the horizon, past the buildings of the city. Though the sky is gray, hidden with rainclouds, the sun pokes through the little holes, sending rays of light through the open blinds.

Lance has already brought out candles and blankets, preparing for the worst. Keith’s only glad it’s spring, and neither the cold nor the heat has become unbearable. He never thought he’d be thankful for the wind, either, but it brings a fresh breeze through the cracked windows and keeps the apartment cool.

Keith sighs as he leans against the window frame. The cup of coffee Lance made him has grown cold, and though he hates the bitter taste, he finds himself taking another sip anyway. It feels strangely right to do so, watching the storm. The two just go together in a way Keith can’t explain.

“You like the rain?”

He glances over his shoulder and looks at Lance. Keith hums before turning back to the view. The streets are empty, with only a few pedestrians strolling the sidewalks holding either an umbrella or their coats tugged over their heads. The light hitting the wet asphalt makes the roads glitter, but the storm clouds are heavy, even in this room.

“It’s nice to see. There’s a lot more up here than there was in the desert.”

“Deserts tend to be dry.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Lance breathes out a small chuckle and pulls out a matchbox. He lights a few candles around the living room, kitchen, and bathroom before he comes back to the living room. Keith can feel his eyes on him, but he doesn’t say anything – he doesn’t know what there’s to say, anyway.

Lance settles on the floor, back leaning against the television stand. His knees are pulled up to his chest, and he rests his chin against them, watching Keith like he’s trying to figure something out. He then sighs and shuts his eyes.

“Do you miss it?”

Keith peels his eyes away from the window. “The desert?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Keith pauses before he offers a weak shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t really miss home,” Lance says after a beat of silence. He opens his eyes. “I miss my family. And the beach. But I don’t think I’d move back there.”

The comment shouldn’t be surprising, considering everything, but his heart clenches regardless. Setting down his mug on the coffee table, Keith sits on the floor, mimicking Lance’s position. They sit and stew in the quiet for a couple of minutes, either relishing in the coziness of the stormy evening or thinking things over – it doesn’t matter which, at this point. 

“Did they tell you?”

Lance shakes his head. “I overheard the conversation at work.”

Keith takes a deep breath. He leans his shoulder against the coffee table for support, but the conversation is still substantial. A part of him is glad Lance has been thinking about it, too, though. Even if it leads to uncomfortable conversations.

“I’d get it,” says Lance, “if you wanted to go. I can’t say that I’d like it, but I’d get it.”

He thought that’d be nice to hear, but for some reason, it fills him with dread. If it had been a year ago, Keith wouldn’t even hesitate. He’d help Shiro and Adam pack and look for apartments without a glance back. But as thunder sends the apartment quaking once more, Keith only feels more uncertain than he had before.

What would happen if he moved away? All of Keith’s friends live here in Texas. He’s never had a group of people who care about him as much as he does now, and Keith can say for sure that he’ll never find people like this again.

He doesn’t even think he wants to, either. Some things are one in a million.

“I don’t know,” Keith whispers. It can barely be heard over the rain. “I don’t have anything in Arizona.”

“You’d have Shiro and Adam.”

Keith nods. He always has them. He says that.

“We’d come to visit you.” Lance stretches his legs across the floor, refusing to meet Keith’s eyes. “It’s a long drive, but I know all of us would be more than happy to come to see you. Once a month visits. And you could always come down here, crash with me. You know where I live.”

They share a quiet laugh.

Then, Keith surprises himself by saying, “I don’t want them to resent me for not going.”

That catches Lance off guard. He opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times as he flounders for words before he scoots closer to Keith. “Dude, that’s not even possible. Shiro and Adam love you so much. Do you even know how proud of you they are?”

Keith shakes his head. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Keith tries to work out the words fumbling around in his head. “They put their lives on hold to take care of me. They adopted me when I was fifteen, and they took care of me for five years after that. All of that would be a waste –”

“Hey,” Lance grabs Keith’s shoulder, jerking him in his spot. Keith stares up at Lance with wide eyes, words caught in his throat. “Don’t say things like that, dude. They brought you into their family because they love you. They never once stopped loving you, even when you moved out and started your own life. They chose _you_ , Keith, and they’ve kept choosing you since. Shiro and Adam would never throw that away, ever.”

Keith’s mouth runs dry as shame floods his system. He can’t look away from Lance’s piercing eyes, no matter how much he wants to. Not knowing what else to do, he nods his head frantically and says, “Okay.”

Lance backs off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just...” He looks to the side, eyebrows furrowed low. “Your decision won’t let anyone down, Keith. Whatever you decided, I... we love you. And we will always be here. Do you understand that?”

Unable to speak, Keith nods his head again.

Groaning, Lance asks, “Will you say something?”

Keith opens his mouth, and a shaky breath comes tumbling out. Lance looks different. He feels different.

“Do you think they’ll deliver pizza in this weather?”

Lance looks as surprised as Keith does at his comment. He laughs, and suddenly the room isn’t so dark anymore. “Gosh, if they don’t, I think we might starve.”

  
  


>>>

  
  


**FROM: SHIRO**

**WED 5:13 PM**

> Hey, have you put any thought into the move?

**TO: SHIRO**

**WED 5:37 PM**

> yeah, i have

**FROM: SHIRO**

**WED 5:39 PM**

> Awesome! Do you have an answer ready for us?

> You know, whatever you choose, Adam and I will still be coming back to the city to visit friends.

**TO: SHIRO**

**WED 5:43 PM**

> that’s great to hear

> but i think i’m going to put my chances on my life here

> is that okay?

**FROM: SHIRO**

**WED 5:46 PM**

> I’m so proud of you, buddy.

> That’s more than okay.

> I love you & I always will. Don’t forget it!

**TO: SHIRO**

**WED 5:49 PM**

> love you too

> and i’ll visit too. don’t worry about me

**FROM: SHIRO**

**WED 5:51 PM**

> Nothing you say or do will stop me from worrying about you. You’re my brother/son.

> I regret that wording.

**TO: SHIRO**

**WED 5:55 PM**

> eugh. gross

  
  


>>>

  
  


As Keith stares at his computer screen, all he can think about is the concept art Lance showed him a few days ago. His brain is engulfed with the spirals of the orange and green clouds, the stoic faces of the space marines, and the ever-growing desire to shove himself into the universe Lance created with Hunk and Pidge.

In his dream, he and his friends were shoved into those spacesuits, fighting off a giant worm that threatened to devour an entire civilization. Together, they’d fought off the monster and saved the innocent people from getting eaten alive. After celebrating their victory, they helped rebuild the ruined cities and were announced as Heroes of the Universe.

He woke up thirty minutes ago, brushed his teeth, shoved food into his face, took his medication, and sat down in front of his laptop. Keith’s been sitting there since, staring down at the keyboard, heart pounding in his chest. It reminds him of the music from Lance’s party. The thunder from the storm a few nights ago.

Keith sucks in a deep breath and begins to write.

The scenes spill from the tips of his fingers. The world comes to life with his words, and after Hunk emails him copies of Lance’s concept art, everything clicks into place. Keith writes. And writes. And writes. And after that, he writes some more – even when his hands start to ache.

Before he knows it, Lance is knocking on his door. He doesn’t even register the sound until Lance is peeking his head into his bedroom, a look of concern stretched across his face. Keith peels his eyes away from the screen and meets Lance’s gaze. Their eyes hold each other in silence, but Keith’s smile is so infectious that Lance ends up grinning, too.

“Can I come in?” Lance whispers like he’ll scare him off. “Or are you in the flow?”

Keith finishes off a sentence and lifts his hands as if he needs to keep the keyboard steady. He stares at the screen, testing whether the words will fade away if he stops writing. When it’s safe, he laughs to himself and leans back in his creaky desk chair.

“You can come in,” Keith says as he swivels his chair to face Lance. “I’m finished with what I wanted to get out.”

“That’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.” Lance steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.

He stands in the middle of the room awkwardly, only sitting down when Keith gestures at his bed. They sit together for a moment, neither saying a word as Keith catches his breath, though he isn’t sure why he needs to. Lance is smiling at him like he’s genuinely excited for Keith, and that only has Keith wanting to churn out another...

He glances at the page number.

Seventeen pages. Holy shit.

“Holy shit.”

“What’s up?”

Keith looks back at Lance, shaking his head. “It’s nothing,” He says, but his leg is jittering, and he can’t help himself from adding, “I just wrote nearly twenty pages in the last few hours. No big deal.”

Lance’s eyes widen, mouth falling open. “What? That’s so much? Dude, what the heck! That’s not nothing!” He punches Keith’s arm. “What got you so inspired?”

Pausing, Keith glances at the screen before he lets out a nervous chuckle. He stands up from his seat and nods toward his laptop. Lance’s eyes flick back and forth between his desk and Keith, eyes growing even wider as he realizes what Keith’s insinuating.

Scrambling off Keith’s bed, Lance rushes to the desk and sits down. He dives in close and begins to read.

It takes Lance almost an hour to read everything, and Keith is helpless to do anything but watch. He paces the room as Lance mumbles underneath his breath, gawking as he scrolls through the pages. Every so often, he sits back and takes a deep breath, and Keith freezes, thinking he’s going to say something, but every time he leans back forward and keeps reading.

Once he reaches the end, Lance scoots away from the desk. He folds his hands in his lap.

“Well?” Keith asks. “I know it’s a little rough. It’s just a draft and everything, but –”

“Keith, I want you on the team.”

Keith pauses. What?

“I want you on the development team for Heroes of the Universe. I want you to write for the game.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. “What? Are you joking?”

Lance turns his body to Keith, eyes misty. The grin on his face is nothing but genuine mirth, and Keith has to stop himself from staring too long. “I’m so fucking serious. This is – I knew you were a writer, okay? But I never thought you would be so... I’m losing my mind, Keith!”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Lance grabs Keith’s arms and holds them firmly. “Keith, buddy. Email this to Hunk and Pidge. Please.”

Sputtering, Keith shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t even...” Keith licks his lips. “Are you serious?”

“Gah!” Lance shakes Keith. “Yes! I’m serious!”

“Okay,” Keith says, a little numbly. He laughs again. “Okay, I’ll email it to them.”

Keith sits down and does just that.

After forty-five minutes, Hunk FaceTimes him. He joins the call, only to see Pidge is there, too. They’re both talking so fast, Keith can’t understand what they’re saying. When they realize he’s joined the call, he’s welcomed with both shouting his name.

“Dude!” Hunk’s so close to the camera that Keith can only see his eyes and forehead. “Dude! Did you write that? I mean, I know you wrote that, ‘cause I sent you Lance’s concept art for inspiration, but dude!”

“Keith, that was amazing!” Pidge yells. “It’s just like we pictured everything. And you got so creative with the alien cultures! I’m absolutely blown away by that! And your prose –”

Lance yanks his phone from his hand and settles on the bed right next to him. He angles the phone, so both of their faces are in view.

“Wasn’t it so cool? Like, that’s our world! We made those characters and the designs and everything!” The phone shakes in Lance’s hand. Keith finds himself staring at his hands in his lap instead of the camera. His cheeks are burning hot.

“Anyway, I read that, and I was like, ‘Whoa, okay, this is epic. Imagine if we had a writer of this skill on the HotU team? And I told Keith, ‘Hey, man, this was amazing, I want you on the team, email this to Hunk and Pidge ASAP,’ and he did!” Lance throws his arm around Keith and squeezes his shoulder. “What do you guys think?”

“Uh, I vote yes,” says Pidge. “What about you, Hunk?”

“You know I want Keith on the team!”

Lance looks at Keith, still grinning. Keith meets his eyes with a nervous giggle. He wonders if it hurts to smile that long. Lance makes it look so easy.

“So?” Lance asks, nudging him with his shoulder. “Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“I... I mean, I have no experience in video game writing,” Keith stutters out. “I don’t want to mess up this universe you guys have created or make this process any more difficult than it’s already been.”

“None of that matters,” Lance promises. “We want you to join us. And if you do, we’ll be here to help you learn all that stuff every step of the way. You just gotta say yes.”

He can’t believe this. Keith laughs again, and this time it’s much more genuine than any of the others have ever been. He nods his head. “You know what? Yeah. I’d love to join.”

His friends erupt in cheers.

“Let’s meet up!” Pidge practically demands. “I’ll bring the binders, and we can hash this out in person!”

“Awesome. Lance and Keith’s place?”

“Last one there is a rotten egg!”

“It’s just you and I racing – aannd she’s gone. Shit.”

Hunk hangs up without a goodbye, and the room once again falls quiet.

Lance and Keith look at each other and laugh again. Distantly, Keith can’t help but think that he’s been laughing a lot more since he moved in with Lance.

  
  


>>>

  
  


**TO: SHIRO**

**SAT 7:19 PM**

> so guess what

**FROM: SHIRO**

**SAT 7:23 PM**

> Did you do something illegal.

**TO: SHIRO**

**SAT 7:24 PM**

> no lol

> i’m working with lance, hunk, and pidge on their video game

> they hired me as head writer

**FROM: SHIRO**

**SAT 7:24 PM**

> WHAT?

> KEITH, THAT’S GREAT!

> Does that mean you’re out of your writer’s block?

**TO: SHIRO**

**SAT 7:24 PM**

> i hope i am

> we’re out celebrating rn, text you more about it later?

**FROM: SHIRO**

**SAT 7:25 PM**

> Of course! Have fun!

Keith sets his phone down on the table face down. The bar was lit with mood lighting, nothing too fancy, but it’s nicer than he’s used to. Keith usually just drank at parties Lance threw at their apartment, so going out with them to an actual bar was a nice change of pace. After spending hours and hours talking about lore, discussing their visions, and tossing ideas back and forth, sitting down to breathe was more than welcoming. But even then, excitement thrums inside him, and for once, he can’t wait to go home and write.

Sipping his drink, Keith relishes in the warmth it sends down his throat. He watches Lance chat with the person across the bar as he orders drinks. The girl laughs at him like he told a killer joke, and Lance does that thing he does when he’s feeling cocky – he stands up straighter and runs his hands through his hair, and the bartender eats it up.

“She’s really working for those tips,” says Pidge as she takes a chunk out of her mozzarella stick.

He snorts. “Maybe she’s just into him.”

“It’s okay, Keith, don’t be jealous.”

Keith chuckles before he freezes. Across the table, Pidge snickers.

“Why would I be jealous?” He asks. “I’m not into girls.”

Hunk chokes on his drink. Apparently, he missed something because Pidge just rolls her eyes and shoves another mozzarella stick into her mouth. Keith pouts and steals one from her plate, and takes a bite. When Lance comes back, there’s a smirk on his face that has everyone groaning.

“You guys think she’s cute? Her name’s Nyma.”

Keith looks back towards the bar. The girl has her dyed blonde dreads tied into pigtails and dark eyes. She calls for someone across the room, waving at them with her hand. His eyes fall on the ring she’s wearing, and he shakes his head.

“Her husband probably thinks so. Check out the ring.” He nods in her direction before taking a drink.

Lance follows his gaze. He snorts and turns his attention back to his friends. “Welp, that would’ve been nice to know before I asked her out. Can’t believe she said yes.”

Whipping his head over to Lance, he stares at him in shock.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!” Lance rubs his arm. “Plus, we’re here to celebrate you, Keith. No matter how many cute people want to take me home, I’ll have to stay abstinent for the night. The things I do for my friends...”

As Keith rolls his eyes, his chest swells with affection. Pidge watches him with a careful eye, and he kicks her underneath the table. She kicks back ten times harder, cackling as he groans and pats his wounded shin.

“But in all seriousness,” Lance says as he raises his shot glass. Hunk, Pidge, and Keith follow in suit. “Keith, for the last year, you’ve been whining and crying about not being able to write. You’ve been stuck in the worst writer’s block I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy, but somehow today, you woke up inspired. I’m glad it was the universe we created that brought this on to you. Starting today, you’re a Hero of the Universe.”

Lance’s speech renders Keith, ironically, speechless. His eyes grow misty as Lance tells him how proud he is of his accomplishment and how excited he is to have Keith join their team. The swelling in his chest only inflates further, and his heart grows so full, he fears it may pop. The smile refuses to wipe off his face, and Keith finds that yes, smiling so much does ache.

But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to.

During all this, Keith can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if he moved with Shiro and Adam to Arizona when they had asked. If he did, would he have been stuck wordless like before he met Lance, Hunk, and Pidge? Would he ever be brimming with so much of this nameless feeling?

“Here’s to taking chances,” Keith says, voice so warm and affectionate, it feels foreign.

“To taking chances!”

Everyone’s glasses clink together, and they down their drinks.

The warmth is nothing compared to what he was already feeling.

They keep drinking. It’s a Saturday, and the night is young, and tomorrow is so far out of Keith’s mind that he may or may not have challenged Lance to a shot competition. And since Lance never backs down from a challenge (and because his tolerance is much better than Keith’s), he accepts the terms and downs the two glasses faster than Keith expected.

Hunk drinks a little too much, too, and apparently, when he’s drunk, he likes doing karaoke. It was fun for the first few songs – Keith got many good videos of him belting out Abba in the middle of the bar, but somehow Hunk manages to drag _him_ into it.

Keith doesn't sing, and he definitely doesn’t sing in front of crowds. But he was drunk, and Hunk let him choose the song. They spent what feels like forever singing Taylor Swift songs he was too drunk to be embarrassed about knowing.

But when he’s on the stage, he can see the whole bar. His vision might be a little blurry, but he can still make out the booth where Lance and Pidge still reside. As they are evil people, their cameras are out, but as Pidge cackles and slaps the table when Keith tries hitting a note way too high for his voice, Lance is just watching him with a smile like no other.

Keith smiles back, and his heart doesn’t pop. It explodes.

Hunk’s still singing, and Keith’s following along the best he can, but tears are prickling his eyes and slipping down his sweaty cheeks because he’s realizing he’s in love with his best friend while badly singing karaoke in a too-expensive bar, and...

And the handful of drunk people watching cheer him on like they have front stage tickets to Led Zeppelin.

And Keith’s maniacally laughing through his verse as Hunk squeezes his shoulder.

And even though Lance is just a couple of yards away across the bar, he might as well be billions and billions of miles across the universe.

Hunk joins in for the end of the song, and their wobbly voices harmonize as well as mayo and peanut butter. But it doesn’t matter because when the music stops, Lance and Pidge give a standing ovation, grinning like they’ve gone mad, too. He and Hunk earned a few whoops and cheers from people at the bar additionally, but it doesn’t hold the same weight.

When Keith reaches the table, Pidge drags him into a tight hug, jumping up and down excitably.

Over her head, he watches Lance get the same treatment from Hunk.

Their eyes grasp hold of each other’s, and Lance’s smile still hasn’t faded. In fact, it seems to grow even wider, especially when Keith touches his lips and realizes that he’s smiling, too.

Lance mouths at him: _See? You’re bulletproof_.

And, man… in that one moment, he almost believes it.

  
  


>>>

  
  


“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Shiro,” Keith says into the phone. He takes a drag of his cigarette, hand trembling as the tips of his fingers press against his lips. Exhaling the smoke, Keith shakes his head even though he knows Shiro won’t be able to see him.

“ _Have you thought about telling him how you feel?_ ”

Keith shakes his head again before groaning. He ashes the cigarette and tucks his free arm under his elbow. With the anxiety radiating off him, a part of him is glad Shiro’s so far away. If he had to talk about this in person, he’d probably lose it. There’s something so impersonal about a phone call with Shiro that makes the whole thing easier.

That’s not to say it’s easy, though.

“That feels bad,” Keith mutters. His hands won’t quit trembling, and it’s starting to irk him more than he’d like to admit. “We’re friends, and now we work together, so that’s just...I can’t afford to make things weird between us.”

“ _Lance is more than understanding, Keith. You know he wouldn’t let things be weird._ ”

“Maybe, but there’s still a chance he just isn’t...” Keith groans. “I’ve never done this before, Shiro. I’ve never felt this way about... anyone. Ever.”

“ _I know, you’ve said that about a dozen times already, buddy._ ”

“Because it’s the truth!” Keith sighs. “I’m not ready to lose everyone. Would it be so bad to keep this to myself?”

“ _...No. They’re your feelings, Keith. You can do whatever you want with them. But I think telling him would make them easier to deal with. And, who knows, maybe Lance feels the same way?_ ”

Kicking the ground, Keith clenches his jaw. “I’ll think about it,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. “Thanks for listening.”

“ _Anytime, buddy. I’m just a call or text away, okay?_ ”

“Okay. Thanks. Love you.”

“ _Love you too. Bye-bye._ ”

After setting his phone down, Keith leans his head back against the window frame. His chest aches, partly because he misses Shiro but also because he’s more lost than he’s ever been before. Closing his eyes, Keith breathes out a deep sigh, one that’s been rooted deep inside of him for so long, it’s almost sad to see go.

“Shit,” he grumbles, scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “This is so stupid. Why is this so stupid?”

He gets no response.

Keith’s shoulders sag, and he glides down the wall, crumpling on the floor like discarded trash.

Maybe Shiro’s right.

Grabbing his phone, Keith stands up. He opens his messages with Lance and paces the room. It stopped being hard to talk to Lance a long time ago, but now that he’s discovered his feelings for Lance, it’s like all their walls have been built back up. How does he even reach out to Lance without sounding absolutely crazy?

**TO: LANCE**

**FRI 8:03 PM**

> where are you?

**FROM: LANCE**

**FRI 8:04 PM**

> my bedroom

> why

**TO: LANCE**

**FRI 8:04 PM**

> come here

**FROM: LANCE**

**FRI 8:04 PM**

> u come here

**TO: LANCE**

**FRI 8:05 PM**

> i need to talk to you

**FROM: LANCE**

**FRI 8:05 PM**

> okay, one sec buckaroo

Despite himself, Keith laughs at the nickname. It only takes a few seconds for Lance to come knocking on his door, and he lets himself in when Keith doesn’t answer right away.

Sitting on the corner of his mattress, Keith glances up at Lance. There’s a weak smile on his face that must look anguished because Lance’s raised eyebrow immediately drops, and his expression contorts into one of concern. Quickly, he moves to Keith, sitting halfway on the bed next to him, frown pulling on his lips.

“What happened?” Lance asks, tilting his head to the side. His eyes look so open, and though the only light in the room is his desk lamp in the corner and the orange salt lamp on his bedside table behind Lance, the blue has never looked so bright.

Keith mirrors Lance’s position. He fumbles with his hands in his lap, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do with them as his head screams at him to say something. Lance doesn’t interrupt his thought process; he watches Keith and waits with patience Keith didn’t expect.

He guesses he shouldn’t be so surprised. Keith doesn’t know if he’s ever contacted Lance and asked if they could talk about things. Even when they got into petty arguments, everything fell back into place after one of them extended an olive branch.

He wonders if he looks as weird as he’s feeling, though. Maybe that’s why Lance is so concerned.

“Nothing happened,” Keith finally says, shaking his head. “I just... I’m feeling things, and I guess...you know, despite everything, you’re the only one I really want to talk to about it.”

Lance nods his head, a slow movement that seems so genuine, Keith isn’t sure Lance realizes he’s doing it. Huffing out a quiet laugh, Keith runs his hand through his bangs, pushing them out of his face. Lance stays quiet.

“Have you been in love?” Keith suddenly asks, dropping his hand back to his lap.

Lance recoils, only a bit. “What? Wait, what? Do you have feelings for someone?”

Keith looks away. “Just answer the question?”

“Uh. I mean...” Lance looks flabbergasted. “I think so. Yeah. Once or twice, maybe.”

Nodding his head, Keith takes in a deep breath. He’s hoping it’ll soothe him, but all it does is make him aware of how every inch of his body is shaking. There should be an easier way to go about this. Maybe Keith should’ve just told him over text or sent an email to him. He could’ve told Lance to call Shiro and have Shiro tell him the news while he bolts.

Looking back towards Lance, he deflates.

Lance deserves more than that.

“Has it ever been...uh. You know, unrequited?”

Scooting back, Lance licks his lips. He scowls at Keith’s sheets. “Yeah, it has.”

“It sucks.”

Lance lifts his head and meets Keith’s eyes. There’s a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry, man,” he says back, voice frayed. “You’re right. It... totally does suck.”

“How do you get over it?”

That makes Lance laugh. “Oh, man,” he shakes his head empathetically. “I wish I could tell you. I’m the worst at getting over feelings. All I know is that... when you stop expecting feelings in return, you get to embrace the feeling.”

Keith scrunches his face up. “Why would anyone ever want that?”

“I dunno. I guess love is just so versatile that it doesn’t matter when you get over your pride. Even if you don’t get feelings returned, that doesn’t mean it’s... useless to feel.” Lance shrugs. He then adds, quieter, “I think the best love is when you’re okay with nothing in return. It just proves that you love unconditionally. That it’s not a selfish thing.”

Keith flops to his side on his bed, frowning. “Is conditional love so bad?”

Laughing, Lance moves to lay on his side, too. He smiles at Keith, but it’s tired. Keith wonders if he was getting ready for bed when he called him into his room.

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather be loved without having expectations than trying to fit into what someone else wants.” Lance rolls onto his back. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I guess. But… like you said a while back, it kind of makes you feel like a loser.”

Turning his head, Lance arches a curious brow. “But what have you lost?”

Keith avoids his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says back after a second. “Maybe I’m not a loser, but I sure don’t feel like a winner.”

That earns him a hum from Lance. “There are no winners here.”

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Keith gets lost in the motion of watching the blades of his fan spin when Lance speaks up again.

“Did you get rejected?”

Shaking his head, Keith glances back at Lance. Lance isn’t looking at him anymore – his eyes are shut, and he’s lying peacefully in Keith’s bed like he’d rather be here than in his own. Keith can’t help but watch him for a little while, taking in the way his hair sprawls against his sheets and how his nose curves upward. His eyelashes are longer than he remembered they were.

“You have to confess to get rejected.”

Lance’s eyes shoot open. He glares at Keith. “What?”

“I said –”

“I heard what you said, Mullet.” Lance sits up and drags Keith up with him. “That doesn’t... Keith, how do you know the feelings aren’t mutual if you haven’t given this person a chance? What happened to taking chances?”

Pulling away, Keith stands up from his bed. Hearing this from Lance only leaves his chest sweltering, aching so bad that it’s getting harder and harder to breathe with every passing moment. It’s not fair how Lance can preach these things to him without knowing the path he’s leading Keith down.

“Screw taking chances.” Keith shakes his head. “Sometimes you just know things, Lance. I’m not going to put my heart on my sleeve and tell someone I love them when I know it’s just going to ruin everything we’ve built.”

Lance stands up. “That’s not fair!”

“You don’t get to say that.”

“I do, too!” Lance grabs Keith’s arm, pulling him closer, either in hopes he’ll listen or so Keith won’t run away. Regardless of which one, Keith rips his arm out of Lance’s grasp, shooting him a glare, daring him to try that again. Lance crosses his arms, leaning forward. “I’ve been where you are now, buddy. I wish someone had told me to feel my feelings and get them out there before it got too late. If you don’t give them a chance, then you have no one to blame for your hurt feelings but yourself.”

“Right, okay, and if they reject me?” Keith demands. “And it screws everything up, and people leave? What then, Lance?”

“Then you know they weren’t worth your time!” Lance takes in a deep breath. “If they can’t see everything you’re worth, Keith, then fuck ‘em! You have a dozen of friends who adore you, and there are so many people out there who will treat you better than this person ever would.”

Clenching his fists at his side, Keith can’t stop himself from letting out a bitter chuckle. The room seems much darker than it was before the conversation. Annoyed and terrified out of his mind, the feeling inside him has grown too much. Somewhere along the line, his body has betrayed him, and somehow, a sour mix of hope and desperation has made his heart overflow.

He refuses to get used to this feeling and the uncertainty it brings.

Chest thundering, hands trembling – Keith’s making a mistake. He’s not thinking this through. He has the autonomy of his body, so why isn’t he stopping himself?

“What if it was you, Lance?” Keith asks, throwing his hands out.

His heart’s wilting before he even has the words out. 

Freezing in the spot where he stands, Lance eyes him. “Is this hypothetical?”

“What. If. It. Was. You?”

Lance raises his chin. “Then I should be so lucky,” he grits out.

It’s like the world comes to a halt. Keith stops breathing, stops moving. Lance doesn’t say anything else. They hold each other's gazes like they’re daring the other to back down. He doesn’t know how long the silence lasts.

A barrage of disgust attacks his consciousness. Keith’s knees grow weak, and his throat burns as he swallows down the rising bile. He doesn’t have the time to think further about what happened, how he’s lost all grip on the situation at hand.

He has no more control. The room grows three sizes too small.

Lance’s phone rings.

Keith looks to his bed, chest heaving. Laying on top of the covers is Lance’s phone.

The caller ID reads Plaxum’s name. Keith’s ears ring.

Lance follows his eyes before they both look up at each other again.

“You should get that,” mutters Keith.

He brushes past Lance without another word, shoulders knocking together, so Lance stumbles back a few steps. After making sure to grab his phone and wallet, Keith rushes out of his bedroom so fast he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. He stalks to the front door and grabs the first coat he can reach.

Stuffing his phone and wallet into the pockets, Keith huffs out a weak gasp, yanks the front door open, and slams it shut. As he jogs downstairs, he only hopes Lance heard it close.

Once he reaches his bike’s parking spot, Keith finds himself hesitating. He knows he left the apartment only a second ago. Still, as he looks over his shoulder and stares up at his bedroom window, he can’t put a pin on why he’s suddenly drenched with sweat. Keith can’t even catch his breath no matter how long he stands still in the road.

The only thing he can make out in his bedroom is the low, orange light and the ceiling from where he stands. A part of him wonders if he stands there long enough, will Lance lookout in search for him? Does he even want him to?

No. Keith shakes his head. No. That’s the last thing he wants right now.

How could he just hand the reins over to Lance like that? Was he stupid? What was wrong with him?

Of course, Lance’s ex would’ve called right then, too.

He must be so excited to hear from them.

The thought plays in his mind on a loop.

His head throbs. Keith groans. Stumbling in the direction of his motorcycle, Keith shakes his head. He takes another deep breath in hopes of composing himself. He’s just about to throw his leg over the seat when he catches sight of himself in the review mirror.

As wild as his eyes look, there’s an emptiness in the grey he’s never seen from himself before. His skin is flushed, burning such a bright red he’s half sure he’s making it up in his head. Strands of his bangs stick to his forehead, and he brushes them away.

There are many wrong things about his reflection, Keith knows that deep down, but the only one that’s really sticking out to him is the fact he forgot his helmet upstairs.

Cursing underneath his breath, he considers going back to the apartment to grab it for one whole second. It almost feels like a checkpoint, some sort of safe zone in a video game. Keith hovers beside the bike as he thinks about opening the apartment door.

His stomach flips, rolling in the mud with dread. Keith shakes his head once again, wiping the thought away without a second wind. He steps back from his bike, head growing quieter and quieter until it’s deliciously empty. The only thing he feels is the hair on the back of his neck sticking up.

Keith stuffs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. As he fumbles, he catches the jangling of keys hitting his cellphone, and Keith freezes all over again. The jacket is a deep green. It’s not even leather.

He pulls out Lance’s car keys and stares at them. As soon as the thought threatens to even whisper in his head, he hates himself. That’s too far. Apparently, there’s a limit to these sorts of feelings, so Keith simply pockets his phone and wallet into his jeans and shoves Lance’s belongings into his bike’s storage compartment.

After taking a dozen steps away from his bike, Keith turns on his heel and sprints out of the apartment complex’s parking space, down the sidewalk. 

A few hours later, when he’s exhausted and shaking more than a rabid animal, Keith shoots Shiro a text, asking him if it’s too late to move down to Arizona with him.

He gets a phone call in response.

  
  


>>>

  
  


The mountains look pink against the clear blue sky. Though hazy, the muted colors bring an odd sense of peace to Keith during his early drives. Arizona is hot, sure, but there’s something about the warmth he didn’t know he desperately missed. The air clings to him like a hug, and he absorbs the feeling as he revs the bike’s engine.

The sun is rising, leaving a golden glow stretching across the flat land. He never knew the light could make the rich orange sand look warmer than it already did, but every day he’s out here, he finds something to love. Every day, he finds another reason to stay out here and forget Texas.

Skidding to a stop, Keith turns off the engine and peels off his helmet. He can see his shadow in front of him, and he laughs at the way his hair sticks up at odd ends. Not bothering to smoothen it out, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a notepad, and uncaps his pen.

Keith doesn’t write but instead stares at the lined paper.

“The sand is orange,” he mumbles, jotting down the same thing on the paper. “And the sky is blue. It is... hot outside.”

He frowns at his handwriting. Everything he listed down was facts, sure, but they didn’t feel right. It wasn’t writing; it was a list. Keith scratches everything out.

“Okay, uh. What do I feel when I see this. What do I feel.” He taps the back end of the pen on the paper. “I feel...warm. Sure. And there is a lot of space out here. Ugh. Okay. Why did I come out here?”

Notepad fluttering in the breeze, Keith’s shoulders drop, and he leans his head back, staring up at the brightening sky.

_Growing up, all the other boys liked the color blue. I liked red. It reminded me of the buttes at sunset. They stood on the horizon, tall and unafraid of whatever the desert was going to throw at them. How they could sit in such a quiet, lonely place and still stand firm, I never knew._

Keith takes a deep breath and flips the page.

_I saw red everywhere after that. Superheroes, fire trucks, my favorite fruit – they were all red. Red. A primary color. Without red, a lot of things wouldn’t be the same. If you had taken red away, my entire life would be left askew._

Another page.

_But then I met you. I met you, and suddenly red wasn’t such a big deal._

_It’s funny how you can know something about someone but not realize it until you’re looking directly at it. Did you know you have blue eyes? When I found out, the world flipped upside down. Instead of red staining my vision, it was blue. It was you. Everywhere I looked, there you were, with me._

_At some point, red stopped being my favorite color. I didn’t carry it with me the same way I carried you._

_You can take red away from me. I’ll be just fine._

_But blue? I don’t think I can ever look at it again without thinking about your eyes, how the sky looked the night you caught me smoking my last cigarette and the way the rain pattered on the windowsill when you told me you’d understand if I wanted to go. Every time I see it, I feel it. I am blue more than I’ve felt anything in a long time._

_No matter how far I run, blue is sticking with me, just like I hope red is sticking with you._

Keith stares at the notepad until his vision blurs and droplets of water are smearing the ink. Sniffling, he closes his notepad and stuffs it back into his pocket before he wipes his cheeks. He hates himself for crying, but he doesn’t force himself away from his hurt this time.

He’s been running away from it for too long.

When the sun has made its way up the sky, Keith has long since composed himself. Though there’s no denying the way his heart is reaching out for someone a thousand miles away, Keith knows it’s time to let go and start the drive home.

After pulling in the driveway, Keith parks Shiro's bike and tugs off his helmet.

Though he’s only been in Arizona for half a month, he’s grown fond of Shiro and Adam’s house. It’s a little boring on the eyes, with the tan clay and pale shingles, and the landscaping leaves a bit to be desired, but something about it feels cozy. He knows that it’ll take no time for Shiro and Adam to make it feel like home.

Resting his sweaty gloves on the bench outside the front door, Keith walks in, shucking off his jacket and relishing in the cool AC hitting his skin. He hears chatter in the kitchen that grows quiet as he peels off his boots and slips on his house slippers.

Before he can think about running upstairs, Shiro’s standing before him. His face is a shade paler, and there’s a wild look in his eye like he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Keith,” Shiro says a little bit too loudly. “You’re back from your ride!”

Keith arches an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah,” he replies. He narrows his eyes and asks quieter, “Are the feds here?”

Shiro sputters. “What? Why would the feds be here?” He gives Keith a look. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! Why are you acting so weird?”

Trying to push past Shiro was a mistake. Shiro’s metal hand is immediately pressed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Keith looks down at the prosthetic and glances up at Shiro with a small frown. Shiro’s doing something weird with his face, raising his eyebrows and looking at him hard. Even though Keith knows he’s trying to say something with his eyes, it’s going right over his head.

“Shiro?”

Shiro’s resolve breaks. His shoulders droop, and he nods his head back toward the kitchen. “You have visitors,” is all Keith gets from him before Shiro’s stepping back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Panic spikes inside Keith’s chest, and he peers through the archway that looks into the kitchen. In hindsight, he shouldn’t be surprised to see Hunk, Lance, and Pidge standing in the kitchen muttering amongst themselves, but that doesn’t stop the wave of unease crashing over him. Sucking in a deep breath, Keith backs toward the front door, pressing against the wood. He stares at Shiro with round eyes.

“How did they get here?”

“Lance said, and I quote, ‘I have hella miles,’ so...” Shiro sighs. “I thought you invited them here, Keith. You told me everything was on good terms!”

Keith throws his hands out. “I lied, obviously!”

He covers his head with his hands, ears burning. Not only does he hate unexpected guests, but the look of disappointment Shiro is directing at him is _scathing_. Keith just made peace with the fact he’s been running away from his feelings. He thought he would at least have a couple of days before he had to confront them! Groaning, his hands drag down his face before he sucks in a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay. Okay,” Keith mumbles. “I’ll deal with it. Just – can you give us a second?”

Shiro holds up his hands. “I have to run into work anyway. Just don’t trash the house or anything. But if you guys want to help unpack, I won’t stop you.”

“Just! Ugh!” Keith kicks Shiro’s shin. “Go!”

“Ow! Okay, okay. Geez.” Shiro jingles his car keys before shuffling Keith away from the door.

Keith watches him leave feeling almost as helpless as the night he got here. Closing his eyes, he counts to ten, hoping that when he opens them, the kitchen will be empty so he can shower and lay in bed all day listening to whatever trash Spotify recommends him.

He’s never been the lucky type, though. When he opens his eyes, he’s met with the view of his friends standing around the kitchen island. Lance picks at a donut, grumbling something about how the donut shop owner didn’t know what a kolache was. Pidge scrolls mindlessly on her phone, and Hunk is resting nearly face-first on the countertop.

Stepping into the kitchen, Keith clears his throat. Hunk is the first person to look up, and when he sees Keith, it’s like he’s at war with himself. The scowl stretched across his face twitches, and before Keith can object, Hunk’s pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Okay, okay,” Keith squeaks, tapping out on Hunk’s shoulder. “I’m happy to see you, too. Just – God, please, my ribs.”

“Put him down, Hunk,” Pidge says. “I have half a mind to kick his scrawny ass.”

“Scrawny?”

Hunk steps back, bottom lip quivering. “You jerk! You can’t just ignore our texts and calls after disappearing!”

Keith gives a half-smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t get service out here. Haven’t gotten around to, uh... switching my phone plan.”

“How long does that take, huh?” Pidge demands as she punches his arm. “Or were you just waiting until we’d forget about you?”

Rubbing his arm, Keith darts his eyes to the side. “I don’t know how you want me to answer that, honestly.”

Pidge groans and punches him again. Somehow, her bony knuckles always hit the same spot, and even though it hurts, he takes it in stride, only wincing a little bit. Huffing, Pidge looks the other way, glaring at the freshly painted cupboards as she taps her foot impatiently.

Working out a weak chuckle, Keith glances over in Lance’s direction. He hasn’t said anything yet, still working on a glazed donut with uninterested eyes. Keith looks away and scuffs his foot on the floor, a habit he has no idea where he got.

“How did you guys even find me?”

“Even if you don’t have service, you have Wi-Fi, moron,” says Pidge. “You have Find My Friends on.”

“What is that?”

Pidge waves him off. “Doesn’t matter. We were worried sick about you, jerkwad. How could you just disappear like that without a word? What were you thinking?”

Keith swallows down the lump in his throat. “I’m happy to see you guys.”

Hunk places a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “We’re happy to see you too, Keith,” Hunk assures. He then shoots a glare at Lance. “Right?”

Lance finally looks up. “Oh, Keith. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Oh my God.” Pidge rubs her temples. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but if it was big enough for Keith to run across the country, then nobody is leaving this kitchen until the two of you talk it through.”

Unable to stop himself from gulping, Keith shrinks in on himself. How is he supposed to talk about everything in front of Hunk and Pidge? It’s bad enough he has to talk about it with Lance at all. He wishes Shiro never left. Maybe then Shiro would see how miserable Keith was and figure out some excuse to end everything right now and let Keith hide out in his room for the rest of time.

When the room stays quiet, Hunk taps Pidge’s shoulder and whispers, “Maybe we should actually give them privacy?”

“You’re the one who’s been incredibly nosy about the situation!”

“Yeah, well, that was until the room started feeling, like, incredibly awkward.”

Keith loudly sighs. “Lance, will you step outside with me?”

“Oh my God, Keith, please don’t shank him! It can’t be that bad!”

“I’m not going to –!” Keith gapes at Hunk. “Do you really think I’d stab Lance?”

“I don’t know, I’m nervous!”

“Jesus Christ,” Lance grumbles as he throws his half-eaten donut back in the box. “Both of you, shut up. Come on, Keith. I want to get this over with.”

Eyes stinging, Keith does nothing but nod his head. He’s seen Lance in plenty of moods before, but this one is new. Though there’s a thrill drumming through his veins, there’s no masking his anxiety. Keith’s already wringing his hands together as they leave the kitchen and head back out the house’s front door.

When the door shuts behind them, Lance steps forward without him and makes himself comfortable on the doorstep. Keith stands behind him, watching as he slowly rests against the bricks. Lance left enough room for Keith to follow, but he’s frozen where he stands. If he takes a step forward, says the wrong thing, then... it might really be the end.

The thought strikes him funny. How this feels more like closing a chapter than running away to Arizona did, he has no idea. Did he really think somewhere deep inside him that Lance would actually follow him out here? It doesn’t feel right to say but seeing his friends in Shiro’s kitchen somehow made sense, even after he left them in the dust.

“Are you coming?”

Keith sits down next to Lance, holding his legs close to his body to not invade his space. He stares at the concrete walkway, pouring his attention on a line of ants marching to the tiny stones and pebbles of a yard.

Outside is mostly quiet in the mornings. Most of the neighbors have already left for work, and the ones who have the luxury of a day off must be sleeping in. Every so often, birds chirp in the faraway trees, and a dog barks, but Lance and Keith don’t share a word.

Minutes pass by like hours. Lance rubs his arms. Keith shivers, but it isn’t cold out.

“Did you steal my jacket?”

“It’s in my bike.”

“My keys were in there,” Lance says. “Right?”

“In the right pocket.” Keith looks at Lance. “Sorry.”

“I had to call into work. Told them I had the plague.”

Keith winces. “You got fired?”

“Yep.”

Cursing underneath his breath, Keith darts his eyes to the side. The longer he sits out here with Lance, the more he realizes how much he’s messed up. Hell, if he had just paid attention when he left, he wouldn’t have taken Lance’s coat. Lance wouldn’t have lost his job, and he could be back in Texas, forgetting the nightmare of a roommate he had for a little less than a year.

At this point, it’s funny how good Keith is at screwing up. If it weren’t buried so deeply inside himself, maybe he wouldn’t have had to run so far in life. Where did he get off being stuck in his own head so often? What good has it done him for this far?

It’s bad enough he’s just the shadow of what everyone thinks he is. Why does he actively choose to keep bending when it breaks him every time? Why is it more comfortable than sticking around and fighting through?

He wishes he had an answer. He hopes to God this problem stuck inside him could be solved already.

“I’m sorry,” says Keith after a long silence. “I didn’t mean to take your jacket. I was so...” His fist bounces on his knee as he stares into the road. “...I was careless, and as soon as I realized I had your keys, I made sure to keep them and your jacket in my bike safe before I had to go.”

Even though what he’s saying is true, it feels just like an excuse.

“I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes,” Keith continues as he shifts his body to face Lance. “But the thought of going back upstairs made me so sick. I didn’t want you to see me like this because I can’t stand acting like this, and it’s so hard to control. I didn’t...”

His face falls. They only feel like excuses because they are, aren’t they?

“...Are you sure you want to get into this?”

A laugh comes from Lance, but there’s no joy residing in the sound. Instead, there’s hurt, disbelief. Amusement that’s been infected with anger, at the very most. Keith’s heart lurches in his chest, but it feels like the strings holding it up grow looser and looser with each second that passes.

“When did it become so impossible for us to talk about things?” Lance asks, voice hinting at desperation. “I mean, God, Keith! I came all this way, and you’re still running?”

Keith stares at his knees as he’s scolded. He knows Lance has a point, but what is he supposed to do? What can he say about any of this that doesn’t paint an even worse picture? Call him selfish, but he’d prefer Lance to remember what he saw in Keith in the first place rather than who Keith ended up being.

But it’s not about him anymore, is it?

Looking at Lance, Keith blinks back tears of defeat. He blows out a shaky breath and nods his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I just don’t know what to say. I need... I need some help here.”

“I just don’t get why you ran away, man,” Lance admits, his words so hoarse and gravelly, he has to clear his throat to fix it. “First, you tell me you’re scared of losing everyone, and then you somehow change your mind and make this weak-ass attempt to cut us off? Are we that expendable to you?”

His shoulders fall along with his mouth. “No.” His voice cracks in his throat. “That’s not true. Each one of you means so much to me. You know that.”

Try as he might, Keith knows he can’t stop Lance from doubting him at this moment. Deep inside, Keith knows how much he loves his friends, but he made a statement by running away, and that’s something he doesn't think he can take back at this rate.

Strangely, this is the first time he’s thought about how running away can hurt more than just himself. And he thought he was doing them a favor, after all this time.

He thinks back to what he wrote during his ride this morning.

_No matter how far I run, blue is sticking with me, just like I hope red is sticking with you._

His stomach churns at the thought. How dare he wish that when the idea of everything he left in Texas brought him nothing but chest pains for the last two weeks?

What kind of friend was he?

“Then what made it so easy for you to go?” Lance bites his lip and glances off to the side. “Because I have been wracking my brain day in and day out trying to figure out what I did to set you off in those last moments, and nothing is coming up!”

“It wasn’t you, Lance –”

“Then who was it?”

“It was me!” Keith cries, squeezing his eyes shut. He avoids Lance’s gaze, hoping to hide the tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. “It was me, Lance. I was the problem. You did nothing wrong, okay? There wasn’t anything you could’ve done –”

His sentence breaks with a dry sob, and Keith crumbles into himself.

He was doing so well before he realized he loved Lance. Why did they have to go out and celebrate that night? Why couldn’t they have pushed it back, given Keith a little bit more time?

Why is he still blaming _them_?

Lance calls his name, voice tight.

“No, stop it.” Keith sniffles and scrubs away the tears collecting in his lashes. “I’ve been stuck in this hole for... for as long as I’ve known, okay? This isn’t even... goddammit! Fuck! What am I still doing here?”

A sharp gasp escapes from Lance’s throat. “Hey, hey, wait. Come on, it’s okay,” Lance says, voice brimming with panic. “What’s going on, Keith?”

Gripping the roots of his hair, Keith tries to steady his breathing. Each inhale leaves his lungs stinging, and his eyes burn as tears collect and fall down his cheeks. The resentment he has for himself stains his skin, leaving it an ugly shade of red.

“Why am I the only one who sees me for what I really am?” Keith asks through his heavy breathing. “I already got more than I deserved, Lance, I – I cashed in all the luck I had to offer to have a family of my own. As soon as I got my closure, the story should’ve ended. I don’t get why this is still so hard.”

“What are you saying?” Lance stutters out, eyes wide. His face has grown pale over a matter of seconds. “Keith, what – you know you’re allowed to want more for yourself, right?”

Laughing bitterly, Keith shakes his head, defiant. “I can’t play the game of getting passed around to whoever’s open again, Lance. That’s why I ran. There’s something about me that’s wired wrong, or something because no matter how hard I try, I only have scraps left to give.” He closes his eyes and adds softer, “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Lance gulps, eyes glassy and red. “Who made you think like that?”

Keith wipes the sticky tears from his cheeks and mutters, “Nobody. Nobody had to make me think like anything. My entire life up until now offers more than enough proof, don’t you think?”

“Something must’ve happened at some point,” Lance says softly. “This isn’t a healthy thinking pattern, Keith. Your childhood kicked you to hell and back, man, but you have always been and always will be more than what was done to you.”

His throat grows so tight it’s getting hard to breathe. Another tear slips down his cheek, but this time he doesn’t bother hiding it. Keith closes his eyes, exhaustion begging him to succumb even though he only woke up a few hours ago.

He doesn’t register Lance’s hand on his back until he starts rubbing in small, slow circles. With the action comes more shivers as warmth shoots through his nerves. No matter how much he wants to lean against Lance, Keith forces himself to stay in place.

“Why are you doing this?” Keith asks after a couple of minutes. He peels his eyes open and looks Lance’s way. “I thought you were mad at me. How can you sit here and listen to everything I just said without feeling disgusted?”

Lance offers him a thin smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something dark he’s hiding there, and it sends Keith’s stomach anxiously twisting.

“I’m not disgusted, man. I had my fair share of these types of thoughts back when I was in school, you know? When you never came home, I was more scared than anything. I thought maybe I had hurt you, so...” Lance shakes his head as if to brush off what he said. “But now I know you were just... being unfair with yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Keith says, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t think it was unfair. I acted irrationally and impulsively, and... I really think you ought to be mad at me, Lance.”

Lance moves his hand up and cups the back of Keith’s neck. “You’ve got to figure out how to be gentler with yourself, dude,” Lance says. “Where’s anger going to get me now that we’re talking things through, huh? It won’t do us any good. And I can’t tell you how you’re supposed to feel about yourself, but Keith... you can’t use me to punish yourself. Got it?”

Keith takes in a shuddering breath. Lance doesn’t move his hand away.

“Yeah,” whispers Keith. He nods his head for emphasis. “I know. I’m going to work on it. I want to work on it.”

Holding Keith’s gaze, Lance smiles again, and while it’s a little tired and a little sad, there’s real relief behind it. It’s really a sight for sore eyes to see him look so close to peace after a morning like this. Keith wishes he could stay in that moment longer, but the smile flickers away almost as quickly as it arrived.

Lance tugs his hand away from Keith and shifts his eyes to the road. Not knowing why, Keith follows in suit, wondering what had caught his eye. The street is empty, not a car nor a person in sight, and yet the view was compelling enough for Lance to pull away from him. Keith’s lips twist into a thin frown.

“What does this mean for us, Keith?”

Keith looks at Lance, eyebrows pinched. “Are we still fighting?”

Laughing, Lance shakes his head. “No, I meant... what now?” He looks back at Keith. “Are you staying here after all?”

Oh. Keith’s eyes fall from Lance’s, and he stares down at his lap, pressing his lips into a line. He hadn’t really thought about what was going to happen. Even if his friends never came down to Arizona, all of his stuff is in Texas. His job is in Texas. How long was he going to allow himself to leave that behind?

“It hasn’t rained at all since I got here,” Keith says.

“You know, I’m not entirely convinced you understand the ecosystem around these parts.”

He pushes Lance’s shoulder, and they share a laugh.

“Do you miss it?” Lance asks, suddenly serious.

Keith’s heart jumps into his throat.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “I really do.”

Lance hums, nodding slowly like he does when he’s really listening.

“You know,” he says, drawing out his words like he’s trying his hardest to stay awake. “For a state so big, it sure did feel empty without you.” His face twists into something uncertain. “Then again, sometimes it felt like I would see you everywhere I went. Does that make sense?”

Lips twitching into a smile, Keith nods his head back, just as easy and slow as Lance’s was.

“It makes sense,” assures Keith. His voice has gone all soft and quiet, and he wonders if it’s because he’s sharing a secret. “I see you in everything, too.”

  
  


>>>

  
  


When Keith was a kid, his English teacher wanted her students to write a short story. They would be the creators of the world, the plot, and all the other characters present – the only rule was that _they_ had to be the protagonist. From what he recalls, it was a lesson on character drive and how it could impact a story’s events, but at the time, he couldn’t care less.

Though it was nearly a decade ago, Keith can still remember the way giddiness unfurled in his chest. The rest of the day was just a waiting game until he could get back to his foster parent’s house. Fun English projects made the nights go by faster, and it kept him busy.

Distantly, Keith can see the memory from a third-person perspective: He sat at his desk, headphones in to drown out the drunken shouts from his foster mother, staring at a blank sheet of notebook paper titled, “Who Am I?”. Dozens of ideas had already been crumpled into balls around his wastebin, character traits Keith stole off the internet crossed out with violent black lines. Nothing he wrote seemed to work, the words either too big or too small to fit in his fragile frame.

Hours would fly past, leaving him more anxious than not, and as it got later in the night, Keith only grew desperate to finish his homework and sleep the night away.

The next day, Keith turned in a two paged story. During reading time, his teacher asked to speak with him in the hallway. She asked him if he understood the assignment correctly, if he needed his 504-pal to run down the prompt with him, and he shook his head vehemently.

It’s weird how well he can remember telling her that it was hard to come up with a story surrounding him since he’s not a real person.

 _Wow, that_ really _should’ve been the first hint,_ Keith thinks to himself as he stares down at his copy of his psych evaluation results.

Keith’s never been good at tests, and yeah, he knows this one wasn’t about passing or failing, but he still feels the same disappointment he felt as a kid when he received an F. The questions his psychiatrist asked him were personal. The entire experience was uncomfortable, especially the long silence following the question, do you regularly have suicidal thoughts?

Fun fact: saying you want to sleep forever is considered suicidal ideation. Who would’ve thought?

Keith tosses the thin file on the coffee table and leans back into the cushions. His eyes flutter shut as he breathes out a deep sigh, but with that, he melts into the couch. Thinking back on the events of the day, Keith can’t say he didn’t expect his diagnosis – and if he really thinks it over, he isn’t angry like he thought he’d be.

When he would wish to the man upstairs for the answers, he wanted a straight-forward one. Who wouldn’t? But the reality is that life doesn’t equate to simple addition or subtraction. Most solutions are just more problems you keep solving.

Keith can hear Lance fiddling with his keys outside of the apartment, but when the front door pushes open, Keith doesn’t rise from his spot on the couch. He tells himself he’s basking in the sun filtering through the windows to his left, but really, he’s too lazy to get up.

“Yeah, yeah, Plax,” Lance says to his phone as he kicks the front door shut. “I know you want a good anniversary gift for your girlfriend, but honestly, I don’t see the problem with a fruit arrangement. She’s a florist! It’s –” Lance goes quiet. “– funny. Uh, hey, hold on. I’ll have to call you back. No, it's not an excuse! Okay. Okay. Uh-huh. Peace out.”

Keith peeks open an eye, meeting Lance’s pout across the room. He lifts his hand and offers a lethargic wave before his arm drops back to his side, bouncing once on the couch.

“Isn’t it a little early to be brooding?” Lance asks as he hangs up his keys on the rack in the entryway. “I thought you’d still be out. It’s not even dark out yet.”

“It’s never too early to brood,” Keith corrects as he sits up. “Shiro picked me up at ten this morning, though. I don’t think these sorts of things take all day.”

“I dunno, man,” Lance mumbles as he sits down in the recliner. “When I was getting tested for ADHD, the test lasted, like, forever.”

“I think that says more about your ADHD than anything else.”

“Haha. Very funny,” Lance says. He scoots to the edge of his seat, hands hanging between his knees. His face twists, and he runs his tongue over his teeth before he says, “So... how’d it go?”

Keith glances at the purple folder on the coffee table before looking back at Lance. He shrugs and grabs the file, waving it like he's teasing Lance with the key to everything they’ve been missing. Lance raises his brows but doesn’t say anything. Sighing, Keith places the file in his lap and scratches the back of his neck. He has no idea how to talk about this, but... maybe that’s okay. Lance has more than enough patience for the both of them.

“It was okay,” Keith says. “As okay as this can be, I guess. I, uh, I have...”

Lance leans back. “Hey, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s – you know, that’s fine,” he assures. “I’m just proud of you for taking this step in the first place.”

Smiling, Keith looks away. His chest does that funny swooping thing it does around Lance. “Thanks,” he says. “But... I think it’s important for you to know this since we’re living together, and we’re, you know, uh... friends.”

Lance snickers. “Such a way with words.”

Keith’s face flushes, and he clears his throat, trying his best not to avoid Lance’s smile and kind eyes. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but laugh alongside him. “Can I talk without you making fun of me?”

Lance zips his lips and tosses the imaginary key behind him.

Rolling his eyes, Keith continues: “So, um.” He takes a deep breath. “The guy – he said it’s called a couple of things, actually, like Emotional Dysregulation or Emotional Unstable Personality Disorder, but most people just call it Borderline Personality Disorder.”

“That’s what you have?” Lance asks, tilting his head to the side. “What does that mean?”

“Uh, well... there’s a lot to it, actually.” Keith crosses and then uncrosses his arms. He shuffles in his seat, frowning. “Fear of abandonment, whether it be real or imagined. Intense or rapid mood swings. Chronic feelings of emptiness. Identity disturbance.” He makes a face then adds, quieter, “Impulsive behavior...”

“Like running away to Arizona?”

“Spot on, actually,” Keith chuckles. “Really, the quickest way to describe it is just... instability. In every aspect of life.”

The room falls quiet. Leg shaking, Keith places the file back on the coffee table and fiddles with his hands. Lance is looking out the window, eyebrows furrowed low above his eyes. He bites his lip, cracks his knuckles, and then sits up straight in the recliner, attention turned back to Keith.

“Is it genetic?”

Keith blinks. “Uh, it can be. But there are also environmental influences,” he answers. “I think being passed around in the system after my Dad died might’ve triggered a part of it, but I can’t be sure.”

Nodding his head, Lance stands up. Keith watches him, and his eyes grow wide when Lance sits next to him on the couch. Despite everything, he’s not used to being so close with Lance, and every time Lance steps in his space, his stomach flips. It’s not unpleasant, though. He likes it more than he would ever admit.

“So, what do we do now?” Lance asks as he turns his body to Keith. “Are we managing the symptoms, trying to get it cured if that’s possible, or what?”

“Right now, uh... he recommended therapy. He switched my antidepressants to Zoloft.” Keith makes a weird face. “When Shiro dropped me off, he said he’s going to call around to help find me a good therapist. He talked about group therapy too, though, so...”

Lance nods again. “I get it. This is a big change,” he says. “How are you feeling about all of this, though?”

It takes a second to process what Lance is asking, and once he does, Keith just groans. There isn’t an easy way to put his thoughts into words without stumbling over himself, and the back of his head is nagging at him, promising he already has. But as he glances at Lance and meets his eyes, Keith’s defeated.

“I’ve been holding on to the idea that things would go back to normal when I came back from Arizona. But it’s been a month, and so much has already changed,” Keith admits as he wraps his arms around himself. He pouts. “Every day, ‘normal’ just grows further and further away, and a part of me feels like I’m leaving with it. Is that crazy?”

“I think it’s natural,” Lance says back. “Change is bound to happen, isn’t it? Things aren’t always meant to be as they once were; that’s just like... asking a tree not to grow after planting it.”

Keith snorts. “God, could you be cheesier?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” says Lance. “I could just go on and on about how honored I am to be next to you through this battle, how I know you’ll overcome your foes with your valiant, kick-ass skills. I can talk about how strong you are, too. There are so many options on the table for cheese, dude.”

Groaning, Keith smacks Lance with a throw pillow. Something about it feels familiar.

“I hate you,” Keith decides. “I actually hate you.”

Lance pulls the pillow from Keith’s grip and whacks him across the face with it.

“Actually,” Lance mocks once Keith’s down, lips curling into a no-good grin. “I recall you saying something different before. What was it again? Oh, right, you said you loved me –”

If someone poured lava on Keith’s face, he thinks this is what it would feel like that split second before he died.

Eyes wide, he shoves Lance away as an affronted gasp shoots out of him. Lance drops the pillow and breaks into a roar of laughter, one so infectious Keith can’t stop his own incredulous giggles from slipping out, either.

After stealing the pillow back, Keith hits Lance once, and then a couple more times, for good measure.

“Shut up!” Keith yells, voice cracking. Lance Laughs harder, doubling over as he tries to shield his face from Keith’s blows. “I told you to never mention that ever again!”

Lance cackles as he's hit again. Just as Keith’s raising the pillow, Lance takes his shot and pokes the sensitive spot Keith has on his side. Keith yelps a funny sound between a shout and laugh, and while he’s frozen, Lance pushes him away, sending him tumbling backward on the couch and into the soft cushions.

There's no time for Keith to sit up and secure his position. Lance is too fast at knocking the pillow out of Keith’s grip, and he’s left defenseless. He scrambles backward an inch or two before his back is hitting the arm of the sofa, but by then, he already knows it’s too late for him.

Lance hovers over him with an ornery look stretched across his stupid, beaming face. He flops down Keith’s chest, punching a groan out of Keith as he settles down. While Lance isn’t super heavy, Keith finds himself losing his breath, anyway.

“I think I should be allowed to talk about it.”

Keith blinks down at Lance before his face burns up all over again. “I disagree,” he argues.

“Okay, but why?” Lance asks as he arches an eyebrow. He looks at his nails before glancing up at Keith’s face. “Name one good reason.”

“What, seriously?” Keith sputters out.

Can Lance feel his heartbeat through his sweatshirt? Keith draws as far back as he can without looking suspicious.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Lance suddenly asks. “Because I’ll let you know, Mullet, I am a freaking catch!”

“That’s not it!” Keith quickly assures. “I know you’re a catch! I just – why on Earth would you want to talk about that? There isn’t anything left to discuss!”

He’s never seen Lance move as fast as he did just now.

Lance immediately sits on his knees, face flushed. With wide eyes, he stares at Keith for a solid three seconds before his gaze darts around the room. Is he looking for an escape? Lance does something weird with his mouth, scrunching it up like he’s trying desperately to hold himself back from cringing. Then, he lifts his hands, covering the bottom half of his face like he’s watching a horror movie play before him.

“Oh, wow!” Lance’s voice is muffled as he drags his hands up and down his face, scrubbing violently. “Okay! Okay! Cool!”

Keith wishes he had an error code to put up because everything in his brain crashes. He sits up, tongue as heavy as an anvil in his mouth. After a few moments of floundering, Keith says, “Lance? Buddy? What’s, uh... what’s happening?”

Dropping his hands, Lance forces out a nervous chuckle. It sounds more like a soft huff.

“Um. I – wow. Oof.” Lance rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you stopped, uh, liking me.”

Keith makes a confused sound. “What are you talking about?”

Lance laughs again. “I probably should’ve asked, really. After I told you how I felt and you left, I just assumed –”

“...How you felt?”

Lance squints at him. “Yeah? You were all, ‘Oh, Lance, you’re so cool and macho, I love you,’ and I was like –”

“When did _any_ of that happen?”

“Are you seriously going to pretend it never happened?”

Nervously, Keith finds himself chuckling. “No! I just – I think you’re remembering what happened wrong or something because I know for a fact I never called you _macho_. That’s terrible! Who even says that?”

Lance blinks a couple of times and runs his hands through his messy bangs, pushing them out of his face. His eyebrows twitch as he stares at Keith, and if Keith looks close enough, he can see the gears turning in Lance’s head.

“Holy crap, Keith,” Lance mumbles, awe shining through his eyes. “You don’t know.”

Keith gives Lance a little shake of his head as if to say, _what the hell are you going on about?_

“Oh my God, I’m in love with an idiot,” mutters Lance.

Wait, what?

“Is this a joke?” Keith asks, breathing growing sharper and faster by the second. “Because it’s not funny.”

Lance springs forward and grabs Keith’s knees, eyes shining as he stares him down. He shakes his head, and Keith watches his mouth move a mile a minute, but nothing Lance says registers in his head.

As embarrassing as it sounds, he feels faint, and Lance’s words are still hanging in the air where he left them before reaching out to him, refusing to settle.

It’s a little hard to believe. Lance, in love with _him_? As in Keith?

The same Lance who kicked his spilled popcorn into his room in hopes he wouldn’t have to be the one to clean it up? The same Lance who would nag at him for smoking in his room instead of out on the fire escape? The same Lance who followed him down to Arizona after Keith panicked and ran away when he thought he was losing more than just his control over his life –

That Lance is in love with him?

“Wow,” Keith breathes out, cutting Lance off mid-sentence. He pushes his bangs out of his face and then adds, “I _am_ an idiot.”

“You really didn’t know?” Lance asks.

“I never thought it would be possible!”

“What, ‘cause you’re too good for me?”

“More like the opposite!” Keith cries, placing his hands over Lance’s. “You’re just... you’re incredible! I mean, holy shit, Lance! You’re the funniest, most open-minded, kind person I know, and like... I mean, come on! Look at you!”

“Well,” Lance glances away, nose scrunching with his sheepish smile. “Geez, Keith.”

“I’m serious! It’s really, really annoying! You’re so annoying!” Keith punches his shoulder.

Lance rubs where Keith hit him. “Ow! Why is this going in the opposite direction now?”

“Because I’m nervous!” Keith chews on his knuckle for half a second before he throws his hands over his face. “Oh my God, how long have you known?”

“I don’t know! Like, a few months! Four months tops!” Lance pauses. “Wait, how long have you known you’ve loved me?”

Keith peeks at Lance through his fingers before letting out a groan. “I only realized it when Hunk and I sang karaoke that one night, and you were smiling at me like – like I was something to smile about!”

Lance gasps, offended. “Excuse me, sir –”

“No, shut up.” Keith waves his hand. “You’re so nice to me all the time. Do you understand what that does to me?”

“I think I get the idea,” Lance says back. He pauses before adding, “So... just to clarify things, um. Are you still...?”

“In love with you?” Keith finishes. “Yeah, I’m... I am.”

“Wow,” Lance mumbles.

Keith laughs quietly. “Right?”

“So what does this mean for us?” Lance asks as he pulls his legs out from underneath him. He glances at Keith with an uncertain look. “I mean, if we both feel this way, are we... going to be together? Will that get in the way of your progress?”

Glancing back over to the file on the coffee table, Keith’s heart stutters. What does it mean? That’s, unfortunately, a really good question. Would starting a relationship with Lance make things more complicated as he gets a better grasp of how he’s wired? How different would things be?

Gulping, Keith looks back at Lance.

“I don’t know,” Keith says, suddenly miserable. “What if I screw things up?”

“I’m just as likely to mess up too, man,” Lance says back.

Keith shakes his head. “That’s different, and you know it, Lance.”

“Is it really?” Lance replies, scooting closer. “You’re not some damaged goods, Keith, and I don’t see what happened before as some... some cautionary tale. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but what if –”

“Hey. Look at me.” Lance grabs Keith’s hand with both of his. He toys with his fingers for a second before he glances up at Keith through his lashes. “We could play the ‘what-if’ game all day, but it’s not going to do us any good. If being with me is something that makes you happy, Keith, then you have every right to choose that, no matter what that doctor diagnoses you with. Okay?”

Keith chews on his lip. “I’ve never done something like this before, Lance.”

“Does that bother you?” Lance asks.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Does it bother you?”

“Not one bit,” Lance promises. “But if we’re going to do this, I want to do it right because... I care about you, and I really, really dig our friendship. And I’d hate to lose that over something we can easily work through together.”

“Yeah,” Keith says quietly. “I care about you, too. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Smiling, Lance raises his pinky and asks, “Then can we promise each other that we’ll try our hardest to work through whatever’s thrown at us?”

As Keith stares at Lance’s pinky, his heart dances in his chest, and he feels like he’s floating.

He can’t believe he made fun of Lance for being the cheesy one. God, he can never know.

Locking their pinkies together, Keith gives a firm nod.

Their hands drop back down to their laps, and the room falls quiet. Keith doesn’t know what to say now that they made the promise. Does that settle things, then? He glances at Lance out of the corner of his eye.

“So, gotta ask...” Lance starts before he flutters his eyelashes and asks, “Does that make us boyfriends?”

Keith opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is an incredulous laugh. He shakes his head, eyes rolling with nothing but fondness.

“What! It’s a serious question!”

“I was going to say, ‘don’t make me regret this,’” Keith says as he opens his eyes. “But I don’t think I could.”

Lance blinks. "Is that a yes, Keith?” he asks, helpless. “I’m kind of losing my mind here.”

Laughing gently, Keith can’t help but think, _you and me both_. He then says, “Yes, Lance, we’re – oh my God, we’re together.”

“Awesome.” Lance fist-pumps after he breathes out a sigh of relief. “Totally expected you to say yes. Wasn’t freaking out at all.”

Even as Keith covers his face, mortified, his shoulders shake with his giggles. 

Lance throws his arms around Keith and pulls him so close, Keith’s leaning halfway on top of him. He doesn’t complain, though. He doesn’t even think about it. Instead, Keith breathes in a deep breath, taking in the fruity scent of Lance’s aftershave. He’s never been able to smell it this much, and as Keith breathes in, he finds that it...

Well, it gets old pretty fast. It actually smells a little sour?

Maybe he’ll complain a little bit.

Keith pulls back, lips twisted into something bitter. “Dude, your face _reeks_.”

Lance scoffs, offended. “That aftershave was twenty bucks, buddy,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I still have half a bottle left, so get used to it. You’re gonna be smelling it a lot more from now on.”

Arching an eyebrow, Keith settles Lance with a look. “And why’s that?”

“Uh, because!” Lance trips over his words. “Because you wanna kiss me so bad! That’s why!”

“No, I don’t,” Keith argues, squinting.

He does. He really does. Lance can totally see it on his face, too.

Thankfully, Lance would rather humiliate them both, so naturally, he says, “Pucker up babe, let's get this smooch train a-goin'!” and squeezes his face tight, blowing up his lips until he looks like a fish.

“You’re so embarrassing,” he says under his breath.

Keith has it so bad.

Leaning in before he can chicken out, Keith presses his lips against Lance’s. Their noses smush together, and he can feel Lance’s sharp intake of breath when their lips graze. Even though he knows he’s probably doing it completely wrong, it’s still somehow better than any first kiss he could’ve imagined.

Warm hands cup his jaw, and Keith allows Lance to guide him by tilting his head. Instead of their noses bumping, they now rest beside each other, and Lance fixes the exaggerated posture of his lips before he catches one of Keith’s between his own. Digging his fingers into the collar of Lance’s shirt, Keith leans into the kiss with his own airy gasp.

He pulls away for half a second, mumbling, “Sorry, my lips are chapped.”

Lance kisses him again. “S’okay,” he says against Keith’s mouth. They share another kiss before Lance adds, “Gonna buy you so much chapstick, though.”

“That’s hot,” Keith jokes, voice flat as he tries to catch his breath. “Say it again.”

He can feel the amusement rising in Lance’s chest and how his shoulders tremble with barely restrained laughter before he hears it. The beginnings of a smile pull at Keith’s lips, and he kisses Lance one last time before a hysterical giggle bubbles out of his mouth.

Lance pulls away from his touch and rests his head against Keith’s shoulder, laughter refusing to die down. Keith smooths down Lance’s shirt collar, grinning to himself as Lance shakes. He’s never felt more proud.

After a few minutes of wheezing, Lance finally looks up at him.

“I love you, Keith,” Lance says through his splitting grin.

Even though he had just told Keith he felt that way not even an hour before, those words were still somehow the last thing Keith expected to hear from him. When Lance says his name like that, his voice the closest translation to adoration, all Keith can think about is how incredibly lucky he is to be here.

“Yeah?” Keith whispers, thumb gliding along Lance’s neck. “I think you make me feel like a winner.”

As Lance stares up at him, his eyes shine bright under the light of the lamp. Keith still doesn’t have an exact name for that shade of blue, but it doesn’t bother him as bad as it used to. Right now, Keith has more than enough time to memorize the way it looks. He’s not worried about running out of time or being passed off. Lance is holding him close, holding him patiently – it’s better than anything he ever could have wished for. 

Though his hands tremble, Keith takes a chance and says, “I love you, too.”

And, yeah, he still has a lot to work on, but now Keith can’t help but believe there is more than enough proof that he isn’t alone. He never was. So when Lance pulls him back into his orbit and wraps his arms around Keith’s back, tugging him into a firm embrace, Keith holds him just as close and just as tight.

This time, he doesn’t beg for a miracle, doesn’t pray to be kept around. Keith simply allows himself to exist without measure.

He wishes he had done so sooner. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey! you made it down here! nice.
> 
> so i don't think i'm going to go all into how much this fic means to me, because it's probably obvious that keith is a total self insert here, right? right. but whatever, I'm still proud of myself. i sat down on tuesday and started writing this fic, and now it's friday, the fic is 21k words, and I'm posting it! imagine if i worked on my wips with that same energy??? we can only dream.
> 
> anyway, i know my fics have a tendency to cover heavier things, as i am a traumatized bitch, but i tried really hard to make this fic as accurate as possible. managing relationships when you have bpd (especially undiagnosed) is incredibly hard, and making them work requires a ton of communication with all parties. the amount of irregularity in emotions is hard to portray, so i hope keith's confusion was convincing.
> 
> if you can relate to the feelings keith goes through in this story, i urge you to take a look at [www.borderlinepersonalitydisorder.org](https://www.borderlinepersonalitydisorder.org/) and talk to your doctor! getting a diagnosis is one step closer to recovery, and it is possible. don't let your crown fall, my liege.
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are always appreciated. you can also send me an ask on tumblr, a dm on instagram, or @ me on twitter and i'll probably get so excited i'll shatter.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! thank you so much for reading. until next time!
> 
> \- cato
> 
> [main tumblr](https://stargulch.tumblr.com) | [vld tumblr](https://kicklance.tumblr.com) | [main twitter](https://twitter.com/stargulch) | [vld twitter](https://twitter.com/hoktril) | [instagram](https://instagram.com/stargulch)


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